


In Between Memories

by slinden



Series: In Between Memories [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Eventual Romance, Memory Loss, Sharing a Bed, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-06 02:22:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 55,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16379585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slinden/pseuds/slinden
Summary: She turned her head to the other side and saw an unconscious dark-haired man, clad in black. His hair was matted to his face and he looked more injured than she felt. She still had no sensation throughout most of her body; there was no telling how injured she was. He was still unconscious and the beings were attending to his wounds from the crash or whatever sickness that was affecting them. Who was he? Where was she?“I don’t…remember,” she mumbled, feeling a brief injection to her arm. “Who…who am I?”Without memories, two strangers try to navigate being quarantined on an unknown planet. They have instincts, but need to fight the frustration of being trapped together, knowing more than memories are missing. Takes place some time after TLJ. Fic is now complete but feedback is welcome!





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two strangers awaken on a strange world with no memories of who they are or where they come from.

 

She awoke to a painful bright light being shone into her eye. It stung, making her flinch, but her arm was too slow to swat away the intrusion. Her body felt heavy and slow; the room spun slightly, blurring around her. A strange hand had forced her other eye open and she winced at the sensation. It was intrusive and demanding, ignoring her as she grunted against the limb. She could see shapes, but the light had obscured her ability to focus. The shape said something in a language that she didn’t understand. Her beating heart filled her ears as she tried to calm down, and still gave up to the terror that took her. The room was white and hurt her eyes further as the shape stepped away. She eventually closed them again, trying to breathe as ghost images of the light swirled in the darkness. Her lungs were heavy and she felt a deep weakness throughout her body. She turned her head to the side and groaned at the sensation.

There were many voices in the room, talking rapidly. She couldn’t grasp any of the words. Slowly, she opened her eyes again, finally feeling them able to focus.

She was clearly in a medical bay of some sort. The room was white and sterile with trays of equipment standing around her bed. The shapes turned out to be shorter humanoids, dressed in protective clothing: their mouths and hair were covered. One of them noticed her stirring and shook its purple head, moving to her side as its mouth worked under its protective mask. It started talking in its strange tongue again and she weakly shook her head.

“I don’t…understand.” Even her own voice was unfamiliar, croaking out the syllables. What was happening?

The being cleared its throat, forcing out a heavily-accented Basic. “You and him. Crashed on sacred site. Leaving soon for…to be kept for forty moons. Forty moons until no longer sick. Rest now.”

“Wait, where? Who?”

She turned her head to the other side and saw an unconscious dark-haired man, clad in black. His hair was matted to his face and he looked more injured than she felt. He was pale with a smear of blood across his cheek. She still had no sensation throughout most of her body; there was no telling how injured she was. He was limp as the beings attended to his wounds from the crash or the sickness that was affecting them. Who was he? Where was she? Her racing heart forced her eyes up again.

“I don’t…remember,” she mumbled, feeling a brief injection to her arm. “Who…who am I?”

“Rest.”

The panic receded into the blurred room and she drifted off into a forced sleep, almost relieved to be free from the confusion.

It was hard to tell how much time had passed when she awoke again. The blackness could not be counted like normal time. This time, she didn’t feel as weak, but there was a distinct pressure in her chest. She coughed, slowly trying to rise from the bed. She wasn’t in the medical bay any longer, but instead it seemed to be a simply constructed room in a wooden structure. Looking down at her clothes, she frowned. It was a simple dark tunic and light-coloured arm wraps. She noticed that there were faint bloodstains and holes that looked to have been recently repaired from burn marks. They had fixed her clothes, whoever they were.

She sat up more on the bed, testing her strength. It cost her her breath and she wheezed until she coughed, trying to focus on what was around her and not what was happening within her. Her leggings were also grey, stained lightly with blood. Was it hers? She eyed her boots; they were worn and needed to be replaced. Taking in the rest of the room, she noticed the empty bed next to her. But the sheets had been disturbed. A pair of black boots and gloves sat across the room in the corner. He was here, somewhere. The thought loomed in her mind, partly curious but mostly nervous. A small window brought in most of the light, aside from the faint illumination from the ceiling. They must be running on very low power. She looked outside, seeing nothing but a snow-covered forest, stretching on endlessly. Well, it was daytime, at least. Rising gingerly off the bed, she moved to explore the structure and find her companion, curiosity winning over.

She was upstairs. The room was the only one on the second level, but a fairly sturdy looking staircase led down to the lower level, after a small walkway up to the room. Clutching the railing, she tried to find her footing. It wasn’t just the heavy feeling in her chest; part of her mind kept reaching for something that was no longer there. It was like a feeling beyond the hole in her mind. She had no memory of who she was and how she got there. It was just a dark, black emptiness until the bright light had woken her.

“You’re awake.”

A deep voice caught her attention as she started to descend the creaking stairs. Sitting at a small table across the large space was the dark-clad man from the medical bay. He was human, like her, but dressed nothing like her. His hair was pushed back now, revealing intense eyes. He wore dark materials with thick layers. His jacket was undone, revealing more black underneath. He was dressed more warmly than she was. That was strange, if they were companions.

He stood, carefully, wincing and favouring one leg.

She reached the bottom of the staircase and had to take a deep breath to recover.

“Do you…remember anything?” She asked, moving to rest her hands on the chair opposite him. Again, she felt like it was hard to breathe.

His face fell and he quickly shook his head. “Nothing. I’ve looked around and have only found this so far. Before I needed to rest.”

There was a datapad on the table. She looked at him and grimaced.

“Is any of it in Basic?”

He shook his head. “But I know the language.”

“How would you know that?”

“I don’t know,” he snapped, then cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. This is just…frustrating. I don’t know who I am, I don’t know where we are, and I don’t know who _you_ are.”

She sat down, ignoring his apology. “What does it say?”

He sat down heavily, frowning and scanning the datapad. “They found us at a sacred site, injured. They don’t know our names and there were no identifying documents. They only found one ship, crashed nearby. There is some fungus that grows here that affects humans, but not them. We are quarantined. It is not deadly on-world, with the right treatment. But off-world, we would be dead within days and spread it to others. It will take three standard months to not be communicable, or forty of their days. This planet has a slower rotation. That would also explain why we’re tired in the middle of the day; we’re used to standard time, not this planet. According to them, not even the First Order has a presence here, due to the fungus.”

“Well, that’s a good thing,” she said. “I think.”

“I don’t know,” he reached the bottom of the information. “They have left us food, water, other supplies, and healing equipment. There are medpatches to help with breathing. They haven’t listed anything else, except for more about the fungus. There is nothing about who we are or what we were doing here. Or even the name of the planet. They are useless creatures who are obsessed with how we intruded on their poisonous world. They’ve set a timer — see here? It will run out about a standard week before the quarantine will end. That’s when we can choose to have our memories back or not. Never before.”

“So, they’ve done something to us?”

He nodded. “It’s to stop the fungus from spreading to our long-term memory. It’s an implant, you can feel it. I want to find something to cut it out.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “That will probably damage your brain.”

“I don’t care. I want to get out of here and know who I am.”

She locked eyes with him and fiercely shook her head. “We will find out in time. It’s apparently to protect us.”

“Fine,” he said as he frowned.

She rubbed the back of her neck, feeling for the implant. It sat heavy underneath her fingers as she touched it, feeling the shaved part of her hair. “At least we know we are both human.”

He glared at her lightly, brown eyes more confused than angry.

“Well, something is better than nothing,” she replied, folding her arms. “Did you hear what they were saying before they brought us here?”

He shut his eyes, rubbing his face. He found the scar that arched across his face and explored it lightly with his fingers. “No. I was unconscious. Do you remember what it sounded like?”

She sighed, trying to recall anything from the medical bay. “T’chaza? T’chazi? Something like that.”

Opening his eyes, he met her gaze. “Weapons. Weapon. We must have had weapons at some point that they’ve taken from us.”

“Are we…mercenaries? We aren’t dressed like soldiers,” she mused. “Why would we come to a planet that’s deadly to us otherwise?”

“There must have been something here that we wanted, if you are correct,” he replied, but his mouth was set in a firm line. “We’re dressed differently. Why are we together, travelling to this planet?”

“I could be your captive,” she pointed out. “You could have been escaping my pursuers.”

“Or you could have been my passenger, and we crashed here under attack,” he replied. “We will never find the reason why we are here without more information.”

It was only mid-afternoon outside and she felt exhausted. She saw the deep rings under his eyes as he tried to fight the same feeling. She was also desperately thirsty and hungry. Placing her hands on the table, she forced herself to stand and carefully moved to find the supplies that they were promised. There was another alcove off to the side, for food preparation. She found the chilled supply cabinet and opened it, revealing months’ worth of both fresh and preserved food. The entire time, she felt his eyes on her. She found the small basin and reached for the touch to turn on the water. She laughed, grabbing at the stream with her hand.

“There’s water!”

She gulped down a few mouthfuls before she heard him limping towards her.

“Find a vessel,” he mumbled, reaching for a cupboard above her head. He nudged her aside with his hip and filled a carafe and switched off the stream. She watched him place the vessel on the counter and find two glasses.

“That means there’s a fresher,” she said. “I feel awful. I just want to be clean.”

He nodded. “They’ve cleansed us, then redressed us in our former clothing. They want to keep our memories from us, but also hint at them. It’s infuriating.”

He drank a glass and filled another before handing her one. She slowly took it and sipped at it.

“Where do you think you have to be?”

His body went rigid. “I don’t know. Other than my memory, there’s a part of me that’s also missing. I feel like I can’t reach beyond myself.”

“You feel it too?”

He turned and eyed her again. “We must be companions if we share the same feeling. You’re not my captive. We work together, in some way.”

She gave him a light smile. “That’s something.”

“Stop looking at the good in this,” he replied as he poured himself more water, and motioned the carafe towards her. She nodded and accepted more. “Do you realize how long we are stuck here?”

“Forty moons.”

He exhaled. “Three standard months. Long days and even longer nights. With nothing to do.”

Raising an eyebrow, she took a step closer to him. “You’re injured. You keep favouring your leg. The thing to do now is rest. You said it yourself, we’re used to standard time. We’re hungry, we’re tired. It’s evening for us.”

He pursed his lips. She’d won that argument.

She brushed passed him, opening the cold drawer with fresh food. She was unsure if it would be replenished; he might have left something out of his reading of the pad. She placed a portion of pre-cut meat and rootfruit on the counter and he stepped back, looking around the room for something. She seemed to be good at searching and finding, and he was good at standing and being useless. They were clearly companions.

He leaned against the wall, silently wincing again and touching his leg.

“Is that why you took your boots off? The pain?”

“Yes.”

She found the range and a pan, turning up the heat to see how high it went. There was no grease to be found, so she tossed in the pre-cut food into the pan and hoped for the best before decreasing the heat. Were there spices?

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“Making the late meal, or early meal, whatever time it is.” She shrugged. “Can you check over there? For seasoning?”

He limped over and checked one cupboard and set four or five small cans on the counter. Lucky for him, she thought, that he didn’t have to look any further, given how everything seemed to pain him. She nodded, snatching one up and tasting it. She grinned and added it to the pan.

“Why would we need this?”

“So it tastes good?”

He fully removed his coat at this point, revealing an undershirt. He tossed his coat aside in another corner. Whatever muscle memory he had, he clearly didn’t care about where his things were. There were more scars on his ivory arms, which were pale compared to hers. But they were also well-muscled and hardened. He lived more on ship and in battle than she did. Unless he was just more careless than she was.

“Can you find something to eat off of?” She asked, stirring the meal with a spoon she had found hanging by the range.

He looked annoyed, checking the cupboards again. He found two flat plates and held them up to her with almost a smirk. He awkwardly moved by her to place them on the table in the middle of the main room. She heard him wince with effort when he thought that she couldn’t hear. He was clearly in pain and trying to resist it. She didn’t understand why she wanted to take care of him, but settled on the idea that it could be instinct. If they worked together, this could be commonplace. He sat down at the table and she could hear him breathing. It reminded her again of the awkward pressure on her lungs. Each time she took a deep breath, it rattled through her body like a trapped animal.

Shaking off the feeling, she tasted what she was making and felt the pieces of meat. It looked like it was thoroughly cooked. She turned off the range and took the pan to the table. After setting it down, she went and retrieved the water and the glasses from the cooking area.

Sitting down, she offered him the cooking-turned-serving spoon. “You first.”

“Why?”

“You’re injured,” she said, flatly. “You need more than me to be well.”

He looked at her with tired eyes before taking his share and turning the spoon back towards her. She took her part and started eating, feeling a desperate hunger take over. She ate mostly because she was hungry, but also because it tasted good. He ate in smaller, more careful bites.

When both of their plates were empty, he eventually nodded at her. “Thank you.”

“I wanted to eat too,” she answered and then shrugged. “We should rest now. We can explore more later. It will still be here when we wake up.”

She stood from the table and offered him her hand. He pushed himself to his feet and took it.

Instantly, the contact shook them both. She felt a sudden burst in her chest and saw a flash of them fighting side by side in some obscure space in her mind. It was like she was in that place, surrounded by memories of fear and rage. She could smell burning in the air and the press of unbearable warmth and terror. There were flashes of fire and dark colours around them. An overwhelming sense of focus washed over her in the flash and she felt temporarily grounded. She stepped away from him, gasping as the fleeting feeling faded.

His hands came to his chest and he looked at her with intense eyes.

“What did you see?”

“Fire, red, black. We were fighting,” she managed to say.

He nodded and instantly reached for her hand again. Nothing. His hand was cool in hers and there was no vision this time. He seemed annoyed at this and let his hand fall away again.

“I’m tired,” he announced. “But that was progress into getting out of here.”

She reached for him again and he reluctantly accepted her help as she led him up the stairs. He collapsed on his bed and looked at her with heavy eyes.

“I’m cold.”

She frowned. “Your coat is downstairs. And you’re lying on your blanket.”

He shifted to pull the blanket onto his large frame. But he didn’t seem satisfied. “Push your bed closer. I need real warmth.”

“Why would I do that?”

He looked offended. “You said it yourself. I’m injured.”

She frowned at him.

“Please.”

Exhausted at that point, she shoved her small bunk closer so they were both touching. She took off her boots and climbed into the bed and shifted closer to him. He snatched her blanket and tossed both of their combined linens over them and reached for her. She was eventually drawn over to his bunk, resting with her back against his chest. His breathing was slowing and she could feel him start to fall asleep. Despite how he had acted, it felt comfortable to be warm. Upstairs, they were away from the central heating. This was a problem, given the snow and cold outside.

She slowly turned in his arms and rested her head on his chest. Under two blankets, and in apparently familiar arms, they fell asleep.

She awoke feeling cold, colder than before. That’s what woke her. It was dark in the room and the bed was empty.

“Where are you?” She called. They didn’t have names. They didn’t know one another’s names. Thank kriff they were only two.

“Downstairs.” She heard his voice call. “The stream is out.”

She sat up, feeling the chill in the air as her breath snaked out in a cloud from her mouth. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for more linens.”

Eventually, she heard heavy feet climb the stairs. He draped a dark piece of clothing on the bed. The only light came from the dim twin moons through the window.

“Will this happen every night?” She asked, not for an answer but more for a statement.

“They could be saving stream, not bothering during the long nights.” He had found his jacket and clasped it. “I found a small chest. There were other spare clothes, but not many linens. And no weapons.”

He returned to the bed and she instantly sought his warmth. Shivering, she felt him rubbing her back. “It’s so cold.”

He pulled her closer. “The stream generator is outside. I still can’t find the door.”

She intertwined her legs with his, seeking all of the warmth out of desperation. He suddenly pulled away and she protested until she heard the clasp of the jacket unfasten.

“Sit up, put this on,” he mumbled.

“But you’ll freeze,” she said.

“It will be fine, you’re smaller.”

She accepted the jacket. It was warm from his skin and she shuddered at the feeling. “Thank you.”

He hummed as she hugged against him again. “We can’t do anything during the nights. It’s wasted time.”

“Until we find a solution,” she said, her teeth chattering.

It was so cold. The warmth had quickly left the room and she started to shake. She clung to him and felt nothing but ice.

He eventually sighed. “This isn’t working. We’ll never sleep.”

“What do we do?”

She could hear him clench his teeth. “Take off your clothes.”

“ _Why_.”

“Body heat. Put the clothes on top.”

She felt him pull away and heard the removing of clothes and the undoing of a belt. A heaviness was added to the pile of linens on the bed. She had to comply and moved away, feeling the full depth of the cold. She undid the arm wraps and that took an achingly long time. She tossed them onto the pile. She pulled off the tunic and finally her leggings. She was wearing much thinner clothing. She must have a cloak there somewhere that he hadn’t found. Down to her thin underclothes, she felt him reach for her. His chest was faintly warm and she felt his underclothes between them. That was good. The coldest parts were her feet and she heard him hiss when she pressed them against his calf.

“Stop. It’s too cold.”

“I can’t. I’m freezing.”

She heard him sigh and shift downwards. She gasped for a moment until she felt his large, warm hands on her feet. His breath heated them for a few moments and she finally felt less like freezing. When he shifted up again and folded her into his arms she heard him sigh.

“Better?”

“Yes.”

“When we wake up again,” she heard him say. “We’ll need to find a better solution to this. Socks. Gloves. Something.”

“Yes,” she hissed against his chest. “How long are the nights?”

“I…don’t remember.” He sighed. “We need to find the medpatches. It’s hard to breathe again.”

She nodded and felt his hands against her back and leaned into him, grasping onto his warmth. She was starting to relax, despite the chill around the bed. Her lungs tightened, but she was starting to feel like she could sleep again. Exhaustion started to pull at her. Then there were the hint of lips on her neck and she pushed back, searching his eyes in the darkness.

“Sorry.”

She finally found his gaze and he shook his head.

“I…I didn’t mean it,” he said. “Truly.”

“Fine.”

She moved closer to him again and nodded, feeling too tired and cold to argue. Her lungs must be heavy from the fungus, she assumed. They were still ill and recovering. Despite how she was starting to feel warm, something also made her want to pull away, but it was all too much to deal with in that instant. She wanted to sleep and welcomed it when she finally found a comfortable position.

It was still mostly dark when she awoke again, feeling warm and safe. He was still asleep, looking softer and more innocent than he had during the day and their brief interaction. The sharpness was gone. The scar across his face traced down to his chest and she followed it in the low light from above them, slowly bringing her fingers to trace it. He stirred at the touch, sleepily blinking awake.

“What are you doing?”

“You were hurt,” she said, touching his chest. “It’s deep and old.”

He closed his eyes. “That feels…good.”

She let her hand drift away and rested against his chest again. “The stream is back on.”

“Do you have a chrono?”

“No.”

He slowly shifted away from her. “The datapad does.”

She didn’t look at him as he grabbed a dark cloak from the pile to clad his body as he left the room to limp downstairs. She would have to demand to see his leg when he returned. He came back to the room looking both tired and amused.

“For this planet, it’s only 05.45 of a 50 hour day. I hope that the sun rises soon, but I doubt it.” He slipped under the covers, further away from her.

“Let me see your leg.”

He took a slow look at her and shook his head. “It’s not good. There was a bit of light downstairs.”

“Why didn’t they heal it?”

“It’s a deep wound, bruised, but not bleeding. It’s muscle damage. They didn’t have enough time to heal it. They’re isolated and they might not have bacta.”

He slowly moved closer to her again and she finally could touch him. Resting her head on his shoulder, she sighed.

“We need names.”

“I know.”

“Was there anything in there, about who we are?”

“I already told you: no. There were just…numbers. And their numbers are hard to understand in Basic. I’m One and you are One minus One. They count backwards. It makes sense, in a way, why they shut off the stream. That’s when they are most active in the winter months. The nights are too long in this hemisphere.” His voice faded as he put his arms around her again and she could feel that he was still wearing the cloak.

“You could have told me this before.”

“I forgot.”

They were alone. She could only blame him at his lacking in communication. “It’s fine.”

They rested for a while, drifting in and out of sleep. The sun finally started to rise and he sighed, turning his head towards the sun. “So begins the day.”

“What do we do now?”

He shifted away from her, reaching for his clothes. “We find out what else there is here. We were too tired yesterday. The medpatches will be a good start. My throat itches.”

He was stretching his arm out for his trousers and she made him stop. He eyed her as she shifted out from under the covers. She moved across the bed to look at his leg, trying to ignore the rest of his body. The wound was towards his knee, swollen and red and deeply bruised. It was sickly purple and black. She hissed at the look of it, touching it lightly. Again, there was no flash and he again looked disappointed.

“I wonder what happened,” she said. “Will it heal?”

He nodded. “I think so. If I don’t put much weight on it. But I need to move. My body needs to rest, but I can’t stop thinking. There must be answers here.”

She caught him looking up and down her body and his eyes flicked away when he noticed.

“Sorry,” he said, empty of emotion. “We should find the fresher. And more clothes.”

“Yes,” she croaked, closing her eyes, then felt him move off the bed to drape the cloak around her. She looked up and he shook his head.

“I have more clothing than you do. Wear this. It will be easier.”

She folded the black fabric around her as he retrieved his trousers, undershirt and jacket. She heard the clinking of metal as he fixed the first belt, then the belt to his jacket. He finally met her eyes again, and sighed.

“What do I look like?”

She held the cloak tighter to her frame. Touching the scar had started this. “You have brown eyes and hair. A long face. The scar goes down to your chest. You’re young. Light skinned.”

He studied her for a moment. “Your eyes are also brown, along with your hair. You’re smaller than I am, but your skin is tanned in a different way than I can see on my arms. There are scars, but none like the one that you’ve seen on me.”

Hugging herself, she nodded. “I’m hungry.”

He stood up to his full height. He was tall, much taller than she was. In black, he looked imposing. He caught her eyes and slouched slightly.

“Let’s eat and then explore. It won’t take long.”

He started to limp towards the door and she slowly followed, after pulling on her leggings and tunic. She wasn’t going around in underclothes, despite what he seemed to think. It was still cold when she came downstairs. She hugged his cloak around her, realizing how much it smelt like him. Sharing a bed had been a necessity, but she really hoped that the stream wouldn’t be shut off again. His eyes were sharp, but also questioning when he had looked at her. Who was he to her? Was he kind? Judging by how he was dressed, she doubted it. No one with that many scars lived an easy life.

She heard him in the alcove and ignored it, lost in thought. What would bring them to an isolated world that was dangerous to them? Had they been shot down? Who was looking for them? She was gazing out the window at the snow when he returned to her side, handing her a cup of chai. She sipped at it, enjoying the warmth.

“We can’t be the first ones that they’ve done this to,” she answered and then shook her head. “They have procedures.”

He nodded. “Come with me. I’ll show you the clothing.”

There were two more doors down a small hall. The lounge was the largest room in the building. She touched the walls, feeling the structure and pattern of the wood. He opened the first door and brought her into a small storage area. He unfastened the first chest, showing her the other clothing. She greedily grabbed a heavy tunic and handed him his cloak. She found a light grey cowl that was her size. There was a large burn mark, shoddily repaired across one sleeve, and she cringed.

“There’s also medical supplies and other things.” He looked around the space. “There is one locked case. That must be where our other belongings are, the weapons that they mentioned.”

She began opening the other storage bins and he stepped back so she could pull out the contents: medical supplies, more clothes, more food stock, and finally more linens. She handed him a heavy quilt and sighed. He didn’t look very hard.

“There isn’t much here.” She shook her head, resting her hand on the locked case. She wanted to feel something akin to their first touch, but it just felt like the others. She stood, opening the final case. It was a collection of bound books, in their language. She frowned at it. “There’s nothing else to read.”

“We intruded on their world. They weren’t really thinking about entertainment when they stranded us here.” He gripped the quilt in his hands and turned and left the room. She heard him walk upstairs and she went from the storage area to the final door. A medium-sized fresher greeted her and she smiled, happy to see a sonic shower and then an obscured cubicle in the far corner. What she assumed was a machine for washing clothing was across from it. She opened the top and nodded to herself. At least they would be clean. There were no reflective surfaces, but there was another shelf with towels and other cloths. A box of medpatches rested on the lower shelf. She grabbed two and studied the unreadable packaging.

She sipped on her chai. They were going to be here for a while and found nearly everything that there was. She could almost feel his frustration when he appeared in the doorway.

“There is no clear exit.” His mouth was set in a firm line. “But they must have a way in and out.” She held up the patches and he nodded. “Place it on the centre of your chest. It should last most of the day.”

He took one, turned, and stalked away. She sighed and closed the door, turning the lock. He could brood all he wanted. She took off of her clothes and tossed them into the machine. Again, she couldn’t read the instructions and huffed in realization. She grabbed a towel from the shelf and wrapped it around her body. She opened the door again and called for him.

“Hey, you?” She asked.

He was across the floor, in the kitchen. He heard her and turned, slowly moving back.

“What?”

“How do I turn it on?”

He stepped into the room, eyeing her. “What are you doing?”

“Cleaning my clothes.” She pointed at the machine. “And then I’m using the fresher.”

He sighed, looking at the machine. “I’ll teach you. Come here.”

She stepped forward, close enough to see but not close enough to be too near him.

He glanced over his shoulder briefly before turning back to the illuminated panel. “This one: the circle with three crosses? That’s _li’uthchi_. It means on,” he pressed the button, “For the warm, you want _‘ci’ckli._ For cold, _‘ckli_. The time is pre-set. But off is _‘uthchi_. It also means no, but also the opposite of yes. But it can also mean yes, depending on the context.”

“How do you know this?” She asked, knowing she was repeating herself. “They just look like…symbols and even smaller symbols.”

He turned to face her, after switching the machine to warm. It started to hum and he closed the top. It was like his eyes had changed from being an instructor to an inquisitor. Her heart caught in her throat under his gaze. She held the towel closer to her chest as he saw his eyes sweep down her body. He took a slow step towards her and then stopped. He gave her a small nod and then turned and left, closing the door behind him.

She took a pained breath and locked the latch. Sighing, she removed the towel and moved to the shower, remembering the instructions he had shown her. Turning one handle, the water sprung to life. She adjusted it, shifting towards the symbol for warm. She winced as it went cold and she instantly turned it the other way. This language made no sense. It finally went hot and she sighed, letting the water warm her. She realized that she had nothing to wash with but didn’t care. That could come later. She had noticed it in the storeroom.

She didn’t take long. She felt warm and fresh and good. She grabbed the towel again, and frowned at her decision to clean her clothing. She had nothing to wear until the clothing was hung and dry. Sighing she tapped lightly on the door.

“Hey.”

Footsteps. “Do you need help reading again?”

“No. I need…clothing.”

Another sigh.

“What…what do you want?”

“Leggings, a tunic. The cowl.” She stepped back from the door. “And undergarments.”

She heard him exhale deeply and move away again.

There was an eventual knock.

She opened the door and he shoved the material through the small crack that she had made. She grabbed it and instantly closed the door, suddenly feeling awkward.

“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to…”

He was already walking away.

She looked at what he had handed her and rolled her eyes. After applying the patch, she sighed, feeling the relief spread through her body. She put on the breast wrap; at least that felt right. The underwear were a little too long but if it was too cold again tonight, this would be for the best. She pulled on the too-long pair of leggings and slipped on the too-short tunic. The colours were mismatched: tan, rose, white. He only wore black. Of course.

She emerged from the fresher and saw him across the lounge. He was ordering the printed books into various piles on the table.

“You can use the fresher now,” she called. “If you want.”

He turned and looked at her again, stilling his hand on the leather-bound covers. He didn’t say anything as she walked into to the larger space. She felt the steady pressure on her lungs again, returning after the steam from the fresher. The patch had been pleasant at first, a dull numbness, but was starting to take action; it hurt suddenly and she couldn’t breathe. Her legs started to feel uneasy and she blinked rapidly and took the few steps to lean against the wall. He was by her side in a few long, suddenly untroubled, strides.

“Are you okay?”

She shook her head. “It’s just…I can’t breathe. Is the patch working?”

“It will, but this is part of it.”

She felt his hand on her back and leaned into it, needing something that was remotely familiar. In the blank space of her memory, the only thing that she knew was him; she had to trust him. She took a few short gulps of air and he matched her breathing. Slowly, his hand moved to her ribs. He met her eyes, took a long deep breath, and winced.

“Breathe with me.”

She nodded, moving her hand to his waist to keep on her feet. She felt him inhale and she matched him, inhaling deeply, despite the lingering pain. The sensation of whatever the patch was doing spread across her chest. She kept going until he stopped and held the breath. Then he exhaled and she followed him. It hurt more breathing out and she felt even more lightheaded.

“More,” he said.

Again, they repeated the exercise. And then again. The final time, it hurt the least.

“Does it feel better now?” He asked. He sounded hoarse, and then cleared his throat. “I would very much like to use the fresher now.”

She nodded and he slipped away, leaving her against the wall. She did feel better but missed his contact. The sensation rocked her more than being unable to breathe.

He locked the door and she sighed, sliding down the wall opposite. This was going to be a long day. It would take time to get used to how to divide up the time that they had. She might as well break the fast.

Every portion of food in the meal preparation alcove was meant for meals for two. They knew humans, somehow, or at least knew what basic nutrition that they needed. They seemed to have some underlying understanding of basic nutritional needs. She performed the same the routine that she had done on the previous day and made food that she wanted to eat, not caring about what he wanted. Even though he was helping her, he had trouble with personal space. The touches were comforting, but also made her wonder why she wanted to depend on him. The gnawing feeling about trusting him returned; who were they? Frowning at the food, she tried to make it different, but in the end she was limited by what she had.

The meal was already set when he emerged, wearing only trousers and still looking exhausted, from the fresher. The patch sat in the centre of his chest and she quickly looked away, focusing on anything but his broad shoulders.

He didn’t seem to care and sat across from her and ate without any word.

“We should have names,” she finally said.

He drank more water and nodded. “What…what name do you feel like?”

He cut into her with that. She was shocked to feel the rush of emotions at such simple words. They were only going on feelings and instinct. He knew this as well. He was there with her. They shared this frustration. It was something that would unite them through this.

“I…I don’t know.”

He sighed, pushing his plate aside. “This planet isn’t normal. This situation isn’t normal. Don’t…feel ashamed.”

“I’m not!” She argued. “I just…don’t know.”

The silence went on for too long and she started feeling nervous. He stretched out his bad leg and sighed in pain.

“We have no memory,” he finally said.

“No, but we still know things, practical things. We’re not…decapitated.”

He closed his eyes. “Think of…what’s the first thing that comes to your mind.”

She focused on his nose. She couldn’t help it. When she finally closed her eyes, the first thing she saw was deep yellow, and then the light of a star. And then green. And then bright white.

“I see only colours,” she said. “That’s all…I’m sorry.”

He sighed and sat up. “I only see…the same things. No names, only ghosts of shapes.”

She quickly looked around, trying not to focus on how he was shifting his weight from side to side while seated. “I don’t know.”

He sat back, folding his arms across his broad chest. “So, we have that first memory: red, black.”

She finally came back to herself. “Yes.”

“You can be red, I can be black.”

She actually smiled at this. “Well, your clothes…”

He smirked in return. “Red. And black. R and B.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, mostly trying to waste the day.

She was the first one to speak. “So, B…”

He stood. “Yes?”

“Fix the dishes, I’m tired.”

For once, it was her turn to stalk away. He had actually been pleasant, but the entire conversation had frustrated her. He had tried to upset her by phrasing his question in that way. She just wanted to be alone and be away from him. The though snuck up on her and her anger grew; there was nowhere to be alone in this space. Upstairs, she instantly forced the beds apart and curled up on _her_ bed and pulled the covers that were hers over her and tried to rest. He could do what he wanted. He was the one that could read the language and that put him in control. They were both trapped there, but he had the power.

She was finally starting to fall asleep when she felt a soft hand touch her shoulder.

“What are you doing?” She managed to say.

He just sighed. “Nothing.”

The hand was withdrawn and she could finally sleep. There was nothing else to do. She couldn’t even avoid him, unless he wanted to be ignored. Only a short amount of time had passed, but she was torn about her companion. He was injured, but still sturdy. He could do things that she couldn't, but she wasn't helpless. What brought her down most was not being in control of her mind, but also her body. The breathing exercise from earlier had taken so much more out of her than she was willing to admit. The patch was starting to feel less awkward, but it left a cool presence on her chest and lungs. Hours slipped by and she dozed, waking up from time to time to catch her breath until she found a rhythm that worked. She couldn't hear where he was or what he was doing and tried not to let that weigh on her. They had to work together, but it was an unequal partnership. Sleep took her into blackness without dreams, making the emptiness stretch even further. 

She felt another breath on the back of her neck when she slowly awoke. He was there and their beds were together again. She stirred and looked out the window. The sun was starting to get lower in the sky. The stream would be off in a few hours, if that were the pattern. She sighed, leaving him asleep to move downstairs.

He had all of the power over her. She wanted to help him, but she was still below him. Beyond the frustration of not remembering anything, there was a clear imbalance in their roles. How were they going to survive this?

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pressure of no memories leads the pair into an argument.

 

He had moved the beds together, not caring what she wanted. He was tired and frustrated by how slow everything was moving. He didn't understand where the feeling was coming from, but it buzzed around him, spreading a nervous energy. What did they have at this point? No real names, no real mission: hardly any supplies and meaningless texts that seemed to be selected at random. Beyond this space, there was nothing in his mind. There were no memories other than waking up in the same room as a strange woman with a throbbing pain in his leg. But there was a pressure on his chest that wasn’t connected to the fungus and the patch.

He should tell her that it was his fault that the stream would go out every night. But he wouldn’t.

He had pressed the call button while she was asleep and was met with a string of curses and commands. It was too early. They would be punished. He’d robbed them of warmth at night and he had to come up with something. He still didn’t understand where his urgency came from.

He hated the empty places in his mind more than anything.

She was gone again when he stirred, feeling his chest physically tighten. She must be preparing the late meal. He groaned as he sat up. Between his leg and his lungs, he also hated his body; the inner part was separate. _That_ pain was different.

He had pulled on a clean, dark tunic from the pile on the bed. He had at least managed that. It hardly fit and he frowned, feeling anger rise from nothing but the situation. Could he even trust his instincts? He didn’t even feel guilty for placing the call, but he was wondering why he felt remorseful for not telling her. Finished dressing, he glared out the window. Frustration would be a constant emotion until they could leave.

She was downstairs when he painfully got down the last few steps to the lower level. He kept trying to put pressure on his left leg, despite the pain. It was at least something to keep him going.

“There you are,” he greeted her in the cooking alcove. “You’re awake.”

“You moved the beds again,” she said, turning. Her face was set in an annoyed line. She saw how he was standing and her look softened. “What’s wrong?”

He paused, studying what she was doing. She had more of their rationed food on the counter, ready for preparation. She was willing to take on this part; there was no part of him that knew anything about this. Food just felt like something that was necessary. Again, he questioned what he intuitively knew and wanted to do. It added to his impatience. He eyed the short, but dull, knife near her hand and still thought about cutting out the implant.

He had stood quiet too long and she was looking at him in the rising tension of the space.

“Nothing,” he finally said. “What can I do?”

She actually looked mildly surprised when he asked. But she still smiled lightly. “Nothing really.”

“Good.”

Remembering how abruptly she had left earlier, he turned and went to sit in the lounge, exploring the room with his eyes. The table and the chairs. The hallway to the doors to useless rooms. The steps to the stairs. There was a cushioned bench by the wall of the lounge. He wanted to test that before returning to the books. It was something different. He was tense. His body was used to something more physical than sleeping, eating, and recovering. He shoved the bench in a moment of anger and felt pleased with himself when it slid across the floor.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

But it was something. When the bench was moved, a bit of old printed zine fell out from the cushions. He nearly laughed and dropped to one knee, the good knee. He grasped the material in his hands and it felt good. It was a small zine, meant for younglings, but it was something other than the meaningless books. He could teach her with this. The other texts would be too dense. But should he teach her?

He felt a hand on his shoulder and he tensed lightly. “What’s that?”

“An old zine. It’s in their language,” he started flipping through the pages, looking at the words and the pictures and ignoring her. It was meant for youths—advice for daily living and learning. “It’s mostly about what you can and can’t do. Manners and education.”

She squeezed her hand. “We should eat before the stream goes out.”

He kept reading, fascinated that he could do something that she couldn’t. “Yes.”

It was only a juvenile story, but he kept reading it as she set the table and put the meal out, sliding the other books aside. He finally put the zine down and moved to the table. Her rose mouth was set in a firm line. He started eating, ignoring it. There would be more days like this and he was hungry and tired. The effects of the patch would be wearing off and he wasn’t sure how many that they had.

“What did you read?”

He shrugged. “It was for younglings. But it was something. These other books are mostly useless.”

He ate until he was full and then turned from the table to return to the bench to read the rest of the zine. The other books had been too complicated as teaching material. He wanted to bait her into being curious. She made a noise, clearing the table and cleaning away their meal. The sound of her humming to herself as she reduced the waste briefly took his attention; he ignored it until he felt her sit down beside him. He’d won again. A pleasant feeling finally overlaid his general frustration.

“We have many days left here,” she said. “Tell me what you’re reading.”

He sat up and looked at her. He’d seen her before, but in the dim light he could finally view her with relative calm: her soft face and sharp nose. The tone of her skin, lightly freckled but a pleasant shade. He wished that there was some hint about how he knew her. He put the zine into her view.

“It’s…I can teach you,” he said, recalling the failed earlier lesson in the fresher. “Follow with me.”

He pointed to the first blurb. This planet was clearly isolated by relying on published documents. The abundance of trees outside didn’t surprise him any longer.

The paragraph was complicated and he sighed. “The first line is about welcoming the readers, reminding them of the previous issue.”

He indicated to the first part. She nodded, studying the letters. She moved closer to him and he almost yearned for more contact, surprising himself. They sat in the lounge and went through the vocabulary and the grammar. They made it through two pages and she started to ask more questions, getting into plurals and verb categories. The problem of the gender of the words caused a minor argument; there were male and neuter classes but no feminine.

She eventually laughed when he told her that the neuter class had aspects of the feminine and he felt a warmth swell in his chest that alarmed him. There shouldn’t be any mirth in this situation. This was killing time.

“Fine, I give up,” she said, stretching out. “You have many more months to teach me.”

His good mood shifted further at the thought. They hadn’t even been there even a standard week and he was already on edge. He looked at the zine in his hands and thought about ripping it to shreds. Instead, he just closed it and tossed it across the room. She frowned at him.

“Why do you always do that? Throw things everywhere?” She left the bench to retrieve the zine. She placed it on the table and eyed him.

“It doesn’t matter. No one is looking,” he shrugged.

She looked from him back to the table. “I don’t want to be here either. You don’t need to make it so unpleasant.”

He slouched down lower and let her words sink in. He was up instantaneously and overturned the table, throwing everything to the floor; he screamed, letting frustration take over. He wanted to break everything in the room. He wanted to take the knife to his neck and get back what was his. This was what bothered him about instinct; it never stopped pressing on him to act. She was more concerned about surviving and he wanted to act.

She was across the room, near the alcove, looking at him with shock. Gasping, she took a step towards him, shaking her head. 

He snapped his eyes to the window. He could break it. He was going to break it.

He grabbed one of the chairs and then felt a pair of arms hold him back.

“Don’t,” she said. “There must be shielding outside.”

He resisted and tossed the chair anyway, knocking her aside. The furniture crashed into the window, breaking it; but just like she said, the glitter of a shield stopped them from escape. He pushed forward and punched the broken glass. His hand met the field and he winced at the shock.

He was still seething when he stepped back from his destruction.

She was gone.

He heard the fresher door slam shut and lock.

And the lights went out.

He slowly caught his breath, but felt slightly pleased with himself. The pain in his leg was briefly forgotten. She could be mad if she wanted; she should be angrier. They had no answers. Stalking down the hallway, he knocked on the fresher door.

“It will be cold. Come with me.”

“No,” came the muffled reply. “Go away.”

He glared at the door. “Why are you angry?”

“You broke the table, the window, and you hit me,” her reply was sharp and focused. “And now I’m in the dark and don’t want to look at you.”

He rolled his eyes. “But you can’t see me.”

There was a muffled sound of her punching the wall.

“Who are you? Really. How can you go from being a teacher, from trying to teach me, to breaking the table? Where does that come from?”

He wanted to be angry, but the feeling faded as quickly as it rose. “I just want to leave. I…I’m sorry.”

There was no answer. He left her there and went upstairs, limping and feeling a deep burning in his leg again. It was added to by the difficulties in breathing. He had been able to ignore it before, in his anger. The pressure in his lungs was back and he felt annoyed. Everything about this day was infuriating. He grabbed the extra quilt and the linens from her bed, his mind racing. He brought it back downstairs and dropped it by the door. He knocked once and then left. The night would be long and he was fine with being alone.

He couldn’t sleep. It was either too early, or too late. The days were hard to sort out. He was still furious with everything and resented being stuck there. He glared out the window, feeling the weight in his chest worsen. His eyes found her empty bed and he kicked weakly at it with his good leg, pushing it half-way across the room. This time would be endless. At least he was feeling weaker as the last of the patch wore off. That would help end this useless day.

By the time he fell asleep, it was almost too cold to feel comfortable. He pulled his jacket closer to his body and glared at the darkness as his eyes got heavier. Sleep was necessary, but also boring. In his mind, he thought he felt her slip into bed with him. He woke up briefly in the night and she was there and he pulled her closer, desperate for warmth and contact. She was clothed in a thick tunic. He almost missed the intimate contact. If he didn’t get answers soon, he was not going to last long.

But it kept going.

The short days and long cold nights. They were silent for three of their days; that put them to the end of a standard week. She would wear clothing to bed and he would reciprocate. But she was still in his bed.

She had given up her refuge in the fresher for most of the day and silently helped him make meals, glaring at him. They fixed the table with kitchen utensils and he didn’t apologize. They draped a large sheet over the hole in the window and she didn’t talk about it. But he still wondered what she thought.

He wished that he could feel as calm as the face that he wore around her.

Since the outburst, they had found a routine and slowly, painfully, time passed. He let her make the food and he would do other things to fill his role. He quietly wished that their captors would fix what he had broken. He tried reading, but ignored her curious eyes when he would flip through the pages. There was a novel in the piles, but it was boring. He read it anyways, just to try to frustrate her again. He wanted her to break, but knew he would be the one to act out first. He liked the silence, but yearned for something more stimulating. He needed something physical.

It must be nearing the end of the second standard week and he broke the silence. It was after the noon meal and he glared at his empty bowl on the table before looking up.

“We should fight.”

Her head shifted away. “We’ve been fighting for a week.”

“Real fighting. Hand to hand,” he sat back in the chair. “We need to do something.”

He stood from the table and eyed her. He could easily take her. She set her face in a firm line.

“B…” her voice was as solid as her face. “You’ve been impossible to deal with. I almost forgot what your voice sounded like. I don’t want to be near you.”

Their nights together told a different story, he thought as he bit the inside of his mouth. The days had been silent, but he could hear her breathing at night. She would hum softly against his chest, when she thought that he was asleep. He’d trace the shape of her ribs and the curve of her spine, over the clothes, knowing she was only pretending to sleep and too stubborn to break the silence and protest. The tension of the days would bleed away at night and he was starting to enjoy the refuge. He still missed her skin, but she was there and growing more familiar. He wanted to ask her about the soft looks that they shared when they awoke when the stream turned on. She would glance at him, searching his eyes, before grabbing the quilt and going downstairs. Instead of spilling his thoughts, he tilted his head.

“Aren’t you frustrated as well?” He asked. “It’s something to do.”

Eventually, she rolled her eyes. “Fine. Just don’t break the table this time.”

They pushed the repaired table aside, creating more space. He took off his jacket, setting it on the sofa rather than throwing it on the floor. She seemed to hate when he tossed things everywhere. She quirked her head, removing her cowl to reveal a thin tunic, putting it beside his dark clothing. He took an offensive stance and she matched him. He smirked lightly and, in half speed, struck out at her. She clumsily blocked the motion, but seemed to accept the tempo. She struck back and he deflected the swing, turning to try to grab her arms and restrain her. She swept out a leg, knocking him back. It was getting easier to move his leg, but he still held back.

She caught him momentarily distracted and she ducked down, swinging out for his injured leg. With a small smirk, he jumped back.

“That’s cheating,” he shook his head.

She shrugged, dropping to sit down. After a moment of confusion, he matched her, sitting across from her on the floor. She stretched out her leg, then bent her hand out to reach for her toe. They rarely wore their boots now. They couldn’t go outside so it was also pointless.

“We should stretch before we keep going,” she said. “I already feel stiff. It might help with the breathing.

He nodded, matching her movements. Physical exercise seemed to calm him down even more. The patches seemed to be in endless supply and were getting easier to tolerate, but there were always moments when his breath caught in his chest.

The rest of the afternoon was spent stretching and sparring, pushing their movements faster over time. He used his size to his advantage and took her down several times. Each time she would look briefly frustrated and then try again. She finally got a fall and laughed, lifting her arms in victory. Resting on his elbows on the floor, he smiled at her. Even the lingering ache in his leg didn’t dampen the mood.

She looked down at him, noticing how his hand was lingering on his knee.

“You’re still injured, I’m sorry,” she shook her head.

“It’s fine,” he got to his feet, stretching out his leg. “I enjoyed it.”

She held his eyes for a moment and he could almost feel her heartbeat through the air. They were covered in sweat, but he felt more relaxed and calm. She opened her mouth then shut it and nodded, quickly turning away to the fresher. He sighed at the space around him. The weeks were going to be long. At least now they had some other activities beside eating and sleeping.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new problem, as well as new feelings, arise.

 

His face itched constantly. Not being able to shave was overwhelming his frustration at everything in his day-to-day life, if one could call this a life. He’d wake up with still lingering pain in his leg and pressure in his lungs. And then he’d scratch his face. He’d cough and she would mumble and roll out of his reach in protest as a way to punish him. On normal mornings, he would leave the bed and quietly dress, glaring at her back. She would try to get him to sort his clothes and he would just toss them aside, only to find them carefully folded later. And then he would start scratching and left the room, mumbling to himself before reading until she got up and made the morning meal.

The days were getting shorter, he realized. The sun would set earlier, so that meant more time spent doing nothing. But when the stream was on and the sun was out, they would drink chai, spar, and read. She was getting better, but there was still progress to be made. He’d make her try to read aloud and would have to force his patience to a near breaking point. Any change was good change, for both her and him. He was still more selfish and didn’t really care. They would eat the evening meal and she would glare at him each time his hand would creep up to his cheek. At those times, he’d even give her a small smile, and then take his fork to his face. She would blush in mock rage and leave the room to laugh in the cooking alcove, almost to the point that he would start chuckling as well. Breaking their silence had revealed a softness in him for her. She wasn’t just making meals; she was making him get through the days and nights.

But she could still infuriate him in an instant. She would clatter the dishes too loud or reduce the trash at a time when he was trying to focus on reading. She would spar too slowly or too quickly. But then she would smile shyly at him when she left the fresher, almost apologizing, and the feelings would grow. She would laugh lightly when he tossed a book aside when it bored him rather than be fully annoyed. Instead, she would pick it up, find his page and hand it to him again. He didn’t know how to balance that. That was another annoyance he had to fight against.

The dawn filled their room as the third standard week started and he heavily sat up. He wanted the day to begin and she wasn’t stirring. There was more reading to do, more sparring to do. More _anything_ to do. He needed to fill the sun-lit hours with something other than irritation. But another sensation filled him as he gazed out onto the reflection of the snow from the tops of the trees; he remembered her laughter from earlier and quirked his head at his own intrusive thoughts. He turned and narrowed his eyes at her back and decided to be childish on purpose rather than be angry on impulse: she wasn’t allowed to go back to sleep. That was his goal for this morning. His face itched far too much to let her comfortably lie there and rest.

“Wake up,” he said, reaching to shake her leg. “It’s morning.”

“Shh,” she swatted at his hand. “Get up and scratch somewhere else.”

He took his chance and instantly spooned up next to her, resting his cheek on hers. Filling her space in the light of morning was something different and he felt a wave of delight overwhelm the constant pressure on his breathing. She immediately tensed against him and he tightened his arms.

“Feel how itchy it is.”

He rubbed his face against her as she started laughing, trying to squirm away.

“Stop! Please! I already have to look at it. I don’t want to feel it.”

She wrestled against him as he heard his roughly bearded cheek scrape against her smooth skin. She was almost awake now, lightly fighting back. He knew how strong she was and that she was accepting the joke. With a light exhale, he wouldn’t let her go, but relented the teasing. Instead, he set his forehead against the back of her head, taking in her scent. Her giggling faded and she sighed, curling closer into his arms, pulling him nearer. He wanted to get up; he also wanted to tease her more. But this was very comfortable and warm in the lingering cold from the night.

“Does it really look that bad?” He mumbled into her neck, suddenly sensitive again of his appearance. He shouldn’t care, but it bothered him still that he didn’t know his own face.

“It’s…rough right now, to be honest,” she yawned. “But it will look great in a few weeks.”

The warmth again spread across his chest and he to fight against it. He took a deep breath and felt a bit of lingering pain; it was easier to focus on that. His lungs hurt more than his leg in the mornings, but he had full movement of his knee now so that made sparring easier. But his relative good mood remained. He didn’t want to get used to this; he couldn’t. But wouldn’t it be easier if he could let go a little?

“Thank the gods that we have the time,” he felt a smile on his lips as he pressed his mouth to her ear. These mornings before full dawn had become devoted to these softer moments and he needed that time for release. He would grow angrier over the course of the day, coming from the resentment that he felt for the span of time that was left until they could leave. He’d get mad at her for no reason and she would look equally angry and hurt. He would wait hours until he apologized, but he did eventually, even though it pained him. But these moments were almost free from frustration. The lighter moments also betrayed his steadfast determination to leave. And they were starting to terrify him.

She reached for his hand, which surprised him. He let her take it, moving even closer. He held his breath as she brought the hand to her mouth. She kissed the tip of his fingers and tucked his hand in hers. He was frozen in the moment.

“We will get through it,” the sleep had returned to her voice. “Rest with me for a while.”

“Of course,” he hushed his voice and shifted their hands to rest on her stomach. She winced lightly at the touch, but then sighed again. She normally wasn’t this tired. She also resisted most of his contact; now she was cuddling with him. There was something wrong. He wandered through the skeletons of knowledge that remained in his mind: knowing language, knowing basic facts. Moving his hand out of hers as she slept, he gently pressed the linen underneath her bottom between them. It was warm and damp: how hadn’t she noticed? He rested for a few panicked minutes until he was sure that she had fallen asleep again. It had finally dawned on him what was wrong and he shifted out of her sleeping arms to check the med supplies. There were basic things that she would need, as far as he could recall; it was satisfying and bewildering. How did they know these things? How did he know this? He gathered up fresh linens and tights and set them aside in the fresher. He frowned at how they weren’t folded neatly but left them how they were.

It was clear to him that he had no idea how to bring this up. He stared at the things he had collected in their messy state and felt a rising panic take over the pressure in his lungs. They were finally on talking terms—hells, she had kissed his fingers—and this could be an intrusion.

He stripped down and used the fresher, trying to think through his plan. Did he even have one? At least it was a new problem. Maybe that’s why he was so engaged with solving it. Turning on the shower, he wanted it to refocus his thoughts. Instead it was warm and it reminded him of her. They had spent too much time together; that was the answer. He washed himself thoroughly and pushed it out if his mind as he towelled off. He applied a medpatch and sighed to himself. All he could see was below his neck. Desperately, he needed to train more. He felt himself lose muscle mass and noticed slow changes in his body due to inactivity. Was it natural to be this vain? The day was already long enough.

Scratching at his face, and too lazy to find new clothes, he took the ones that were hanging on the tops of the doors. She had set them there and he hadn’t thanked her. It was just something she did without him asking. The same familiar guilt that nagged at him for not telling her about him being the cause of the lack of stream at night tugged at his stomach. But that also might be hunger. Pushing himself through the motions, he made chai as quietly as he could. He was glad for the distraction of caring for her; it would keep him from his own muddled thoughts for a while.

Sighing, he set the mugs on the floor upstairs. He gently reached to stroke her hair and cleared his throat. He took a slow breath as she reacted to his hand. She stirred again, blinking awake. Her eyes seemed to be trying to figure out how he had transported from one side of the bed to the other. Her face was pale and her eyes had a distinctly worn expression.

“You’re not well,” he said, finally. “I made chai. You should rest today.”

She blinked at him, “What?”

He flushed, looking away. “You’re bleeding.”

He saw her react out of the corner of his eyes and then heard her curse. “Kriff, I didn’t even notice.”

“There are clothes and supplies downstairs,” he said softly, or as softly as he could. His shoulders stiffened and he stood. “I’ll make the morning meal.”

He left her to some privacy and focused on the expanse of the alcove when he heard her come downstairs to the fresher. He was torn between wanting to help her (out of boredom, he insisted to himself) and leaving her alone. He copied the steps that she took in the kitchen as she moved up and down the stairs, cleaning the linens. By the time he set the table, she was sitting there, drinking chai and looking embarrassed, wearing the clothes that he had set out for her.

“I’m so sorry,” she looked at her mug.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he mumbled, starting to eat. “You’ve already cleaned everything.”

She moved the food around her plate, taking a small bite. “You made the morning meal. You didn’t have to.”

He took a bite. It wasn’t as good as her food. He shrugged.

“If you don’t like it, you can tell me.”

She smirked. “I like that you made it.”

They finished eating in silence, exchanging careful glances. He could faintly smell her and it made him react; there was another reason to hate his body. Her breasts looked larger, in a tunic that was too small. She shivered from the light draft that wafted in from the broken window. The shielding outside still let in air, which meant that they were colder since his impulsive action. She was sipping at her chai and he rose, moving to the sofa to retrieve a blanket they had left there after reading one afternoon. He wanted to place it around her but instead he handed it to, awkwardly. She still smiled, draping it around her shoulders.

“Would you like more chai?” He asked, woodenly.

“Yes,” she answered. “But you don’t have to do this.”

“I want to,” he met her eyes. “It’s something different. I need stimulation.”

He turned before she could answer and fixed the water. He watched it starting to boil and an idea sprang to his head. He made two new cups and took a spare towel and soaked it in the last of the boiling water. He felt near joy from the pain of handling the hot rag before he wrapped it in another towel. He returned with the mugs and the make-shift warming pad.

She raised her eyebrows as she accepted it. “You really must have been bored the last few weeks.”

He watched her lift her tunic to place the wrapped warmth on her stomach, catching the glimpse of skin. “Yes. But I’ve learnt about being calm as well. I’m still furious that we are here, but I am unwillingly…adapting.”

She sipped at her chai and sat back. “I always want to apologize. I don’t know why.”

“You can be annoying. You can apologize for that.”

“You’re angry and turn silent. You can apologize for that.”

He sat back, scratching his face. “Then I do, if you agree to do the same.”

She nodded then slowly stood. She gave him a small look and retreated to the fresher. He gathered up the dishes and glared at them the entire way to the alcove. He’d have to take care of things and he hated it the more he thought about it. It would be so easy to break it all and just reduce it. They could eat with their hands. The tendrils of civilization were cruxes that kept them from feeling.

He hung onto that thought, not knowing where it came from.

She was behind him before he noticed it. “I’m going upstairs. I feel exhausted. I hate to ask, but can you read to me?”

Her voice was small with her question. He turned and nodded. “Should I make more chai?”

“Maybe later. This is still warm,” she gestured at her mug and smirked at him lightly. She looked pale, but he nodded numbly, realizing how stupid his question was.

She left him and he finished cleaning, finding more anger at everyday things in every second. He grabbed a random book and his chai and went upstairs.

“It’s poetry,” he said, finally looking at the cover. Another stupid mistake. “It will be hard to translate.”

“It’s fine,” she said, sitting up. She pushed up and against the pillows. He moved to his side and she leaned onto his shoulder. “Just read. I like your voice.”

The warmth returned to his chest and he cleared his throat and started to translate the poetry. It was awkward, but he tried to find the scheme. It was mostly about mountains and snow and other picturesque elements. At this point, he hated the nature outside their windows and had to withhold his cringing at both his lack of poetic words and how the scenery was depicted. There was nothing worth beholding in this desolate wasteland in a forgotten part of the galaxy. She would smile at some parts, and frown at others. She would sigh and reach for her lukewarm chai in the pauses. He gave up and read one to her in the native language and she looked up at him at the end.

“I still don’t understand how you can speak this so freely.”

He shrugged, despite himself. “I would tell you if I knew.”

She leaned against him again. “I want to sleep now. Keep reading.”

He had to hold back a sigh and read another in the native language, grasping halfway through that it was a romantic poem: complete and incomplete circles, intertwining until infinity. He was suddenly glad he hadn’t tried to translate it to her. Her head started to sag and he closed the book.

“I’ll go hang the wash.”

“No, stay.”

He settled his arm around her and her head was on his chest. He felt his heart starting to race and needed to calm his breathing. He wanted to flee, but stayed. He lamely flipped through the poetry again with one hand and gave up when the pages kept escaping him. This would be a lost day. His frustration rose at the thought of doing nothing. Once again, he wanted to move but fought against it. Where was he going to go?

Bored, he touched her hair again. He should feel guilty about moving her while she slept but pushed it aside. She sighed and seemed to slightly awaken.

“I’m going downstairs,” he murmured.

“Mmhmm,” she mumbled, shifting away. He pulled the blanket over her shoulders and left the bed.

He had a day alone to himself.

And he was already bored.

He didn’t want to clean. But still hung the clean wash, glaring at it the entire time. He didn’t want to sort their supplies. But he still did it, to make sure the med supplies were adequate. As long as she was asleep, he didn’t have any real stimulation. He silently groaned, gripping one of the chairs as the simple tasks were done. He wanted to break the furniture and find something to use to burn it. He gave up and made chai, staring out the alcove window, blankly. He could count all of the trees, again. He could guess the measurements of the windows, again. There really were only so many basic things to do in this space.

Setting his chai down, the last of his calm bled away. He punched the wall, enjoying the bitter pain that bled through his body. He decided that simple exercises would be the best route to kill the hours.

He briefly stretched, remembering the motions that she had taught him, and the ones that his body remembered. He pushed her out of his mind and tested every lifting motion that brought pain after a number of reps, and then went beyond that. Then he would move into another position and test his arms rather than legs the next time. He wanted to jump, but knew that it would make noise. He rolled his eyes at his thoughtfulness and pressed on.

By the time she came downstairs a few hours later, he was wonderfully exhausted and lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling.

She tilted her head at him and smirked. “You look pleased with yourself.”

“I am,” he shrugged. “Do you need help?”

She shook her head. “I just need to use the fresher.”

“Good.”

He was covered in sweat and was scratching at his growing beard when she returned to rest at his side.

“Stop it,” she murmured. “It won’t get better.”

“It might,” he shrugged.

She stilled his hand. “It won’t.”

He gently took her hand and rested it in his on his chest. “I can try to take care of you.”

“Why did you say try? You already are.”

He shook his head. “The day is still young.”

She squeezed his hand and he had to fight against lashing out and remaining in the lingering calm of pushing his body to the limits that the space would allow. He settled for sighing, which came out more like a sound of pleasure rather than annoyance. He shut his eyes to avoid looking at her.

Instead she rested her head on his shoulder. “I always think about where we should be as well. What we should be doing. Why we’re here.”

“You rarely speak about it,” the words sharply left his mouth before he could stop it. He had to follow that up with something better. “But where do you think we should be?”

“Doing something useful,” he felt her shrug as she spoke. “My hands are always tense, like they should be working on something. I guess that’s why I didn’t mind fixing the table.”

“I can break it again.”

“Please don’t.”

He smiled at her words and turned to look at her. In the light from the sheet they had draped over the broken window, she was lightly shaded, highlighting her features in shadow. She didn’t know what she looked like either. The shape of her nose; the curve of her cheeks. The way that her eyes looked when she smiled. What was she to him? The thought pressed on his mind as she tilted her head.

“What?”

He felt a distant need to push the thoughts away. “I was just thinking of breaking the table again. To give you something to do.”

She narrowed her eyes with a smirk, but didn’t press the question. He felt like he was drowning in the silence and finally had to lightly shift away to sit up. He gave her the softest look he could manage before moving to the fresher. He closed and locked the door.

There were more dangers here than boredom.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They get a visit.

 

A standard month had finally passed when they got a visit. She woke up at the noise of someone downstairs, thinking it was him. But he was asleep beside her. Sleeping in his arms every night was starting to get too comfortable. He was warm and strong and their bodies fit together. At first, this had been for survival. Now, it was because she liked it. He was calmer now that they started exercising regularly together, especially after he had shown his strange kindness when she was menstruating. She came to bed in her underclothes one evening shortly after and she saw the brief joy in his face that he instantly tried to hide. She didn’t want to be attracted to him, but it was there. Lingering glances and touches started to spill over into their days. They were able to talk and he had taught her more of their language with increased patience. He had even started wearing a lighter-toned tunic; now that his leg was nearly fully healed, they were at a new beginning. She still had to ignore the way that his hands traced down her body when he thought that she was asleep to avoid starting a fight, despite how she felt. Sparring was another thing that was drawing them too close; he needed physical activities to entertain himself and keep his temper.

She wasn't ready for an intrusion to their peaceful balance.

First, there was the sound and then there was a sudden pressure in the back of her head. Stinging pain started to bleed through her skull and she gasped. A humming in her ears got louder. It got worse as he woke up, reaching for his head instantly as he sat up. She heard him groan over the hum, both of his hands reaching for his neck.

“They’re here, downstairs,” she gasped, the ache taking over her thoughts. The pain worsened to the point where she couldn’t see. Gasping, tears streamed down her face as she fought against it, reaching for him, pawing at his leg. She felt his hand in hers as she blacked out, collapsing back on the bed.

It was after noon when she finally woke up.

The pain was gone, but so was he.

Scrambling to her feet and pulling on clothes, she dashed downstairs. The window had been repaired and the table had been replaced. In the alcove, there were more supplies. Shaking her head, she called for him.

There was no answer.

She checked everywhere: the storage room, the fresher. There was nowhere left to search.

She was alone.

Panic filled her and her hands shook. It was quiet and she was alone.

The small space suddenly felt massive.

This was the worst sort of silence.

Where had they taken him?

She grabbed the datapad and tried to read it, using the lessons that he’d given her. The grammar was too complicated still, but she was getting better. But this wasn’t a novel or a youth zine. This was technical information. The first line of text was coloured a deep red, obviously new information. There were a few important words that she recognized: _broken_ , _repair_ , _return_. So they were going to bring him back? Fear swelled in her chest as her lungs started to burn. She scanned the walls, looking for how they got in and out.

But there was nothing.

All she could hear was her ragged breathing.

The silence stretched out and she studied the chair, his chair, tracing the lines and angles. There was an emptiness now, replacing the dull tension of her lost memories and his constant, although fading, frustration. She didn’t have anywhere to go and couldn’t do anything about it.

Kicking the chair to the ground, she gave up and made a cup of chai. She was too frustrated to eat.

After setting the chair upright, she curled up on the couch, wrapping his cloak around her. The rest of his clothes, including his boots, were gone. That could mean he wouldn't be coming back; they could be sending him home.

Losing her memory had made her feel alone, but at least she had him: his anger, impatience, and unwillingness to do simple things unless he was forced to. But there were also the small moments when he’d smile or laugh at something she did. The way that his hair looked when he was damp from the shower, glaring out the window at the snow. He’d sit with her, reading the zine or the novel, trying to teach her the strange symbols and grammar. He'd covertly try to scratch at his face and she would give him a mock glare. But there were other times when he would stubbornly refuse to do anything. She would get angry with him and they could still spend days without talking, meeting only to sleep. The bed was an unspoken place of peace.

Their small space now felt massive, like it was going to swallow her.

She thought about his hands, when they sparred and when they slept. How, in her moment of weakness, she had kissed the tips of his fingers. They were like two different pairs. They would get close, wrestling one another to the ground out of boredom and a need for contact and motion. She was getting better at fighting in his style with time, matching his tempo. Her body still wanted to fight in jerky, quick motions; he was trained and had more elegance, always holding back. She wasn’t afraid of him hurting her any longer on purpose, but knew that he could lash out without thinking. The incident with the table still pressed on her mind. The shock of being knocked to the floor and knowing the rage that he possessed still made her wonder about why she trusted him. They would fight one another, and she had to depend on him not to take it too far. The last time, yesterday, he’d trapped her arms behind her back, gripping her close. His breath was in her ear and he chuckled as she pretended to struggle in his arms. She felt his cheek against hers again and nearly shuddered, remembering his teasing from the previous week. Instead, she kicked at his legs and he dodged her, pulling her closer.

“Give up,” she felt the smile in his voice, his chest warming her back.

“No, this is fun,” she turned her head, their faces nearly touching. She could feel his breath on her cheek and his grip loosened. His eyes locked with hers and she saw him inhale.

She stepped away and turned to face him fully. “What is it?”

He shook his head, looking over her shoulder at the wall. His eyes flicked to her and she reached out, pulling him into a hug, not knowing what else to do. It had felt automatic; his face had looked suddenly lost. It wasn’t the usual anger; he almost looked sad. He sighed against her, resting his head on her shoulder.

She didn’t know much, but she knew his arms.

Those thoughts lingered as the day stretched on. The light filled the room, through the repaired window and she just stared at the reflection from the snow against the opposite wall. What would she do if he didn’t come back? There would be so many empty days and nights alone. The thought terrified her more than his outbursts.

She ate, tried reading, and finally took a long shower.

The light started to fade and she stared out into the woods, waiting for anything.

Instead, it was just the forest, cast in dying sunlight.

She silently sobbed when the stream cut out.

What had happened?

The night was even emptier and colder than their silent fights. Slowly, she took the steps up to the bedroom, searching for some peace in that space. Pulling on his cloak, she struggled to sleep, finally alone for the first time that she could remember. Despite the lingering sensation and new memories around her, this was akin to waking up without her mind. They had been taken from her, and now he was gone. Staring blankly out the window, she remembered how she had chosen to come back to the bed the night after the argument. She had been cold, but also didn’t want to be alone in the dark. He had been right. Then he had shown his clumsy kindness and proved that he cared about her in some way.

“Where are you?” Her voice was unfamiliar again as she threw the question into the darkness.

He still wasn’t back the next morning.

Sitting up on the bed, she felt tears sting her eyes again. His side was cold and empty. She traced her hand over the wrinkled sheets and tried to keep herself together. It was too early to give up but the silence loomed in her mind and scratched at her thoughts until she finally let it in

What if he was dead? What if whoever was looking for them had come and found him? There were no answers, only empty questions. Wrapping his cloak around her she quietly wept; they weren’t exactly friends, but he was the only thing that she knew that was tangible.

Numbly, she wiped her eyes.

If he didn’t come back, she’d never know who he really was.

She laid down on the sofa, not bothering to eat or bathe the next morning. She wanted to resign herself to never getting real answers, but there was still a lingering hope inside that she clung to. She traced one of the book covers, remembering that it was the poetry book. She tried to recite the words, but it all felt flat.

Why was this happening, was her final thought before she fell into an emotionally exhausted sleep.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He returns, but with baggage in tow.

 

She didn’t dream when she slept. It was floating in a black space, alone.

She blinked awake, shaking off the last of the darkness. Nothing had changed. The air almost felt stale now that the window had been fixed.

Her stomach had woken her and she sat up. She could survive on chai.

Instinctively, she took down two mugs.

She made two cups and left his in the alcove.

She tried reading the datapad again and sat with it until her eyes hurt. She traced the shapes of the symbol and counted the slashes that represented his identity to them.

She shouldn’t be this stunned. Shaking her head, she set the pad aside and took a long drink from her mug. The part that was crippling her was that she had no way to will him back. A problem was solvable; this was an impossible situation, like everything connected to being stranded there.

Setting her mug on the floor, she let her mind drift until she slept again.

It was nearly dark when there was a thud from the storage closet.

The sound shook her awake, not sure what day or time it was.

Jumping to her feet, she dove to open the door. There was a brief rush of cold air and she was able to breathe again.

Their entrance must be there, because he was unconscious on the floor, dressed in his familiar black clothing. Her heart was in her throat as the adrenaline hit her. Dropping to her knees, she shakily reached for the fresh bandage on the back of his neck. That was the first thing she noticed. She hissed at the sensation. Something had happened. A small amount of snow had blown in, forming a small pile at the edge of the wall. At least now she could tell him where the door was. Melting footprints only came a short distance inside.

But he was there, breathing and alive.

She draped his cloak over him. He was too heavy for her to move. She rested his head in her lap and frowned. He was clean-shaven now. It was a change from the beard that had developed in their time together. He was back to looking young again. Touching his face, she sighed. All of the panic was still wound inside of her, while she tried to feel normal again.

It took a few moments to get her heart under control. Just hearing his breathing ended the silence that had threatened to immobilize her.

He slowly blinked awake, groaning. “What…?”

“They took you. Something happened,” she tried to make him rest again as he reached for his neck. He resisted her hands and tried to focus his eyes.

“They needed to immobilize us to restock,” he coughed and cleared his throat. He scratched at the bandage at the base of his neck. “The implant malfunctioned. I only heard a little of what they said. How did they get in?”

She gestured to the moisture on the floor. “The door is hidden here.”

Getting to his feet, despite her protests, he braced himself against her. He glared at the wall and finally nodded. “I’ll tear it down. When I’m well.”

“Well, you’re going to try,” she smirked. He looked at her with slight humour in his eyes. “I’ll help you upstairs.”

He reached for her and they made their way out into the hall. She showed him the datapad and he frowned at it.

“There’s not much here. We’re making slower progress. They might have to keep us here longer.”

“Kriff,” she swore. “So they’ll be back?”

He shrugged. “They’re not very clear.”

Finally upstairs, he sat on the edge of the bed and reached for the bandage. She swatted his hand away. His eyes were briefly angry then gentle when she sat next to him.

“Does it hurt?”

“It just feels…off,” he shut his eyes. “There’s a different sensation now. It’s almost like there’s an energy around us. I can get close to it, but can’t grasp it. I can…feel you, sense you. There’s this connection. It’s frustrating, but in a new way.”

Taking a breath, she reached for his hand. There wasn’t a flash this time, but he tensed at the touch.

“I just want to leave,” his voice was hushed, then bitter. “But not with them.”

“Me too. Do you remember anything else?”

He shook his head, and she saw his forehead crease in annoyance. He flopped back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. “I’d like some chai.”

There he was again. She patted his leg and left him alone, going down to the kitchen. Secretly, she was overjoyed not to be alone again. It had only been a couple of days, but his presence instantly calmed her. She emptied the cold mug and set more water to boil. Chai in hand, she returned to their room. He had removed the bandage and she had to roll her eyes. After handing him the cup, she sat next to him and stared at the fresh wound, disturbing the line of his hair. It was sealed but still red and new.

“It’s not that bad,” she traced the fresh pattern on his skin, watching him briefly flinch. “It should heal soon. And you won’t itch anymore.”

He rubbed his chin and nodded. “At least it didn’t happen to you. I don’t want to be alone here.”

“It was…strange. To not have you here,” she sighed, shifting her hand to his cheek. She trailed her hand down his smooth skin. He shut his eyes, leaning into the touch. “There was no one here to break things.”

He smiled lightly. “This place wouldn’t be standing if I woke up and you were gone.”

The pause after he spoke stretched on, only broken by their breathing. She felt a warmth rise in her chest as she studied his face. His long eyelashes and soft lips. The freckles on his nose. She thought that she had his face memorized. He was gentle in the few moments like these and it made her stomach knot.

His eyes blinked open. “You’re thinking about me.”

She flushed. “How did you know?”

“I focused on you, on your mind. It was faint, but I felt what you saw,” he closed his eyes again and reached out to cup her face. “Think about something.”

Initially shocked by the touch, she panicked and spotted his chai, resting on the floor. The steam was still rising. She thought about making it now and before; it was as far as her imagination could go. His hand was soft on her face and her heartbeat quickened. He nodded, smirking.

“You were thinking about chai,” he met her gaze. “And then me again.”

“I don’t think I like this,” she whispered. “I don’t like you in my head.”

His eyes narrowed. “You were worried that they wouldn’t bring me back. You missed me.”

There was a new tension in the room; he was in her head and sitting almost too close. She nodded, briefly licking her lips. He was in her thoughts again, sensing what she wanted, she could tell.

He took a deep breath and she tensed, knowing what was coming. He leaned forward, brushing his lips to hers. The flash from their first touch sparked again and he deepened the kiss in an instant; briefly shocked, she opened her mouth to his tongue. His mouth was warm, but the ghosts of memories made her heart quicken more. Images flashed before her mind: sitting in a hut, reaching for his hand. An older, faceless man intruded on them and the memory shook and then faded. His mouth slowed and his lips lingered against hers; she could feel him breathing to her core. He slowly pulled away, meeting her eyes again. She couldn’t believe what had happened; she should be furious, but instead her emotions were flipping in a dozen directions. She wasn’t sure if it was for the brush with memories or the sensation of his lips. His breathing had quickened and he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear with a slightly quivering touch.

“Did you see it too?”

She nodded, leaning forward to kiss him again. His hand curved around her neck, drawing her closer. There was nothing but his mouth this time, but she wasn’t disappointed. He sighed at the contact, humming in response, before she sat back.

“I’m attracted to you,” he said, breaking the silence. “It’s not just being here alone. I feel it.”

She bit her lip. “I…well, you know how I feel.”

He smirked and extended his long arm, reaching for his chai. He sipped on it, standing from the bed to move to the window. “This has been an interesting day.”

She laughed, giggles bubbling up through her chest. Her feelings had decided to take the route of nervous laughter and she couldn’t fight it. The tense days without him had melted away in only a short time, breaking the stop in her emotions. He turned, raising an eyebrow as she flopped back on the bed. “That’s putting it lightly.”

He set his mug on the windowsill, climbing back on the joined beds. He crawled over to her, as she still was lightly giggling, pinning her arms above her head with one large hand. It was gentle, but still changed their dynamic; this wasn’t holding her at night or while they were sparring. This was more. With his body shifting on top of her, she laughed again out of nerves until he smiled. She felt his legs settle on either side of her and her giggling faded into a smile. His hair framed his face as he looked down at her. His eyes were tender, studying her as he gently let go of her arms.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, leaning down to kiss her again. The pressure was light, like a snowflake meeting the windowpane. He sat back and tilted his head. “And you missed me.”

“Yes,” she nodded, touching his cheek, avoiding the scar. Looking from her hand, he met her eyes. His eyes looked lighter, a different shade of brown. He gazed at her like he’d never really seen her before, and she felt a shiver start from her toes and creep up through the rest of her body. Where he rested on her waist was warm and comforting; that was where the shiver rested between them. His hands traced up her sides and she inhaled. Then she saw him stifle a yawn, and blink his eyes in defeat. She smiled lightly at him and motioned with her head for him to lie down.

He shifted off of her to flop heavily at her side, still studying her face. Just having his eyes on her made her feel closer to him, despite having lost the warmth of his body. He ran his hands through her hair as his eyes got heavier. Wordlessly, she rested her head on his chest, even though she wasn’t tired. He fell asleep quickly and she took her chance to slip out of the room. He smelt faintly like the medbay, a distant sterile scent. He also wasn’t himself; why couldn’t he have been like this from the start?

This changed things.

Part of her was exhilarated. He’d come back, instantly bringing life to the space again. But he also brought back a new ability; there was something powerful about him and they wouldn’t get an explanation for it. He’d also kissed her. It was like an unspoken rule had been broken that they couldn’t take back.

She sat down heavily on the sofa and smiled to herself. She traced her hand on his cloak and let her thoughts wander. Getting closer would also mean a greater risk if they returned. Her smile slowly faded, her hand still brushing the fabric.

Could she take that chance?

She had only been alone for a short time and she was left nearly paralyzed. That couldn’t happen again. If he disappeared again, he would come back. She tried to drive that thought into her mind.

Still conflicted, she robotically starting to fix the evening meal, letting her thoughts drift to him in the lingering hours before the stream cut. The nights in his arms were why she missed him, partially. The kisses had sealed it. He was familiar; he was home. There was a hunger in his eyes that she didn’t expect. He was the only one who knew what she looked like; she had to trust him.

“You have loud thoughts.”

She hadn’t heard him come down the stairs and nearly jumped at his voice.

“Sorry,” she looked back at the food. “It must be distracting.”

He stepped closer to her, testing how near he could get. Over her shoulder, she saw his eyes flick over her body and he lightly bit his lip. There was a tension in his shoulders that she didn’t expect. The problem with personal space returned, but that wall had already been broken elsewhere in the house. He stood behind her, haltingly placing his hands on her hips. She wanted to push away at first, but let him come closer. “You don’t always need to make meals for us.”

“I want to,” she felt his arms settle around her, sending a shiver through her body at the contact. She was usually the one to pull him into a hug after sparring, but those were as companions. He was exploring the change in their dynamic; was this something she really wanted? “There’s not much else to do here.”

He kissed her neck and she felt a tightness spread through her loins. He was too close. She should pull away.

“I like this, knowing what you’re thinking,” he whispered huskily in her ear, losing the shyness that his earlier look had shown. “It’s not as empty in my mind anymore.”

“I wish that I could see what you’re thinking,” she sighed, wanting to change the subject and shake the feeling in her stomach. He knew she was conflicted, but was pressing forward. “Can you feel anything else? Outside?”

He tightened his arms around her and she felt him nod. “The stream generator has been repaired. They might stop cutting it. There’s a facility, but far from here. I can sense them, but they’re too distant. There are creatures in the woods, but they aren't close. There are other things—structures maybe—but they are obscured.”

“Hmm,” she stirred the food, shrugging out of his arms. He made a noise of protest, then nodded, starting to set the table. He could read her thoughts, after all.

The late meal was quiet as they waited for the stream to cut out. It didn’t; the sun had set and the room was still illuminated and warm. She smiled at him and he nodded.

“You won’t have to share my bed anymore,” he said, mild sadness in his voice as he stood from the table to clear away their plates. His bed? She narrowed her eyes. He was the one that had pushed them together.

She turned and watched him clean up, wondering what he was thinking as her hand rested on the back of her chair. He didn’t seem frustrated by the chores, but instead used them to flee from her. She had kissed him back, she thought. She hadn’t pushed him away automatically. He seemed calmer and more centered in the short hours since he had been back, even more so than in his most serene moments beforehand. Whatever this sense was, it brought him some sort of peace that she hadn’t really seen before. She moved to lean against the doorframe, watching him reduce the refuse. He seemed to be ignoring her as he started towelling off the plates.

He slowly looked at her after setting a clean dish in the cupboard, clearly reaching for her thoughts. “You’re confused.”

She nodded, not speaking, letting him play his game. He raised a playful eyebrow, leaning against the counter and folding his arms.

“You’re wondering if I really meant what I said.”

“Yes,” she finally said. “You kiss me, touch me, and then you toy with me. It’s not very fair that you can be in my head and I can’t. You…you’ve always had more power here than me. You can read their language, you’re stronger…”

He shut his eyes and nodded, his head dipping lower. “But I’m also impulsive and unkind. Maybe I was trying to hurt you out of frustration. I’m sorry for that.”

She quirked her head. “I’m almost glad the implant malfunctioned.”

“It’s still mostly blocked, but this feeling, this ability to feel and see the things around me differently…” he sighed, meeting her gaze again, his chin lifting. “It’s like I’m finally able to reach beyond myself and connect with the life around me. It’s like breathing again. I’ve missed it this entire time; I’ve felt it and known it but now I know how it fits into my senses. That’s an answer I’ve been looking for. Part of the emptiness has been washed away like it was never there: the trees outside, the wind, the soil, the snow. You. There are beings and life on this planet that exists beyond us and it’s humming, existing, and living in endless cycles. I feel it getting stronger when I focus and it keeps me from being frustrated with my lack of memories. But if that feeling is being blocked for you as well, then I wish that I could help you find it. Holding you brought be closer to feeling whole and this connects me even more. My frustration about not remembering is still there, but this brings me some calm. Hearing the whispers of your thoughts is almost like remembering; it’s something beyond me and this place. It’s beyond the void. I don’t want to lose this again and I’m already worried that if they come back, it will be undone and I’ll feel the emptiness again. I don’t want you to be alone either, or with someone who can’t control himself. I don’t know how to manage this without seeming…distant.”

She stepped towards him, carefully resting her hands on his hips, wondering what she was doing as she found his sides. “Other than when you read to me, that’s the longest and freest you’ve spoken since we’ve been here.”

“I must be tired,” he looked down at her hands. He slowly put his hand on the back of her neck, rubbing the implant. “I wonder what they did.”

She sighed at the touch. “I’m not letting you cut me open.”

He closed his eyes and seemed to be focusing on where his hand rested. He seemed to expect something to happen and she frowned at the concentrated look on his face. He was going to be disappointed and she didn’t know which direction that would take him. His unpredictability had been driven into her during the month together. She looked at him with confusion when he finally shook his head. Nothing had happened. She raised a questioning eyebrow at him and he shrugged.

“I’ll try again when I’m not exhausted,” he brushed his hand down her shoulder, frowning slightly. “I’ve been unconscious most of the day. I shouldn’t be this tired.”

She gently pulled him into an embrace, not knowing what else to do. “Go up and rest. I’m going to clean up and take care of the wash.”

She felt the light brush of lips on her forehead as he stepped away. Alone in the kitchen, she tried to do all of the minor chores that were left: reducing the last of the refuse, folding the towels, cleaning the table. She was nowhere near tired and wanted to do anything but think, knowing that he would be in her mind the entire time.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He discovers a new power that worries them both.

 

He’d wanted to kiss her. He’d wanted to hold her. Despite the new sense, instinct was still driving him. Physical release had been what kept him going he last few weeks and this had brought them closer. The part of him that made him want to push her away, truthfully, was the worry about what would happen when they left and he hadn’t confessed that to her.

Resting on the bed, he let his mind drift to being taken. He knew that they had removed the implant and replaced it. It felt bigger somehow and it had shifted. They had shaved his face and some of the back of his head. Part of that made him satisfied, but the other was another bump to his vanity. But when he looked to his memory, he felt something like an aching bruise when the tried to think about the time when they must have allowed him to have his memories back for a brief instant. It was a new extension of the gaping hole.

She hadn’t told him how long he had been gone but he had seen the dark rings under her eyes and the relief in them at his return. It must have been a couple of days, the planet's days. She hadn’t been this rattled since he had (accidentally) hit her. There was an unexplainable gap in his already vacant memory. They had allowed him a brief taste of their memories and then they took them from him again, but an echo remained. That allowed him to feel some of the relative calm that now surrounded him.

Dark, cold ships. War, fighting. Spots of his life lingered. He would be angry if he didn’t have the comforting sensation of her mind drifting into his.

He wanted more of her; the dark thought gripped him in the warmth of their room. It was strange to feel comfort there without her. Holding her on the bed, until his body betrayed him, was even better than the tendrils that her thoughts brought him. This wasn’t like their sparring; he had to get closer to her. The feeling that surrounded them was calling to him.

His mind wandered as he took deep and even breaths. His lungs were gradually feeling better, but it wasn’t perfect. Perhaps they weren’t healing according to their timeframe. It caught up with them both occasionally, leaving them both weak. This was one of those moments for him. He coughed roughly, sitting up, feeling a distant panic from her mind until it faded. He felt for his chest; they hadn’t applied a new medpatch. That would explain this. What sort of planet would return someone shaven, but without a basic need like that? He closed his eyes and felt frustration start to press at him instead. She was there and had missed him. But he had some sort of greater value or power than her. How was he going to balance that? How was he going to fight against both his mind and the warmth that she brought him?

There were still two standard months left.

And then what?

He’d dimmed the lights but still looked around at the state of the room. She must not have slept easily without him. Her sheets were in a knot in the corner of her side. He hadn’t noticed that before. Staring at the stitching of the blanket, he again questioned why they were there with so many basic amenities. He started to wonder if the story that they had been told wasn’t the truth. What if they had been taken for ransom? What if they were being hidden here until they got the right price? Their injuries could have come from another source. They were weakened, but there might be another explanation for that. It could be that their memories were being forcefully kept from them.

The thought burst through his mind like a star exploding.

They were captives.

His anger rose instantly as his eyes saw white rage; they could be prisoners and not patients. He had been so blinded by his frustration at the situation that he didn’t start to think of these other possibilities.

The calm of her thoughts was pushed from his mind and he was incensed again, taking a ragged breath, feeling the sensation settle in his chest.

In the dim room, he focused on his empty mug of chai, still resting on the windowsill. They weren’t being kept there to protect others, but to get something that they wanted. They were toying with them. He angrily thought about rising from the bed to smash it. The mug sat there as if to remind him that they were trapped. It nearly pushed him over the edge. He was about to move when the mug itself flew across the room to explode against the opposite wall.

The fury escaped his body at the sound, tingling down his arms.

He couldn’t find words to call to her. Staring at the pieces, he felt her distant, yet amused, annoyance as she came up the stairs. She looked from the shards to him and frowned. He shook his head.

“It broke itself,” he said, wincing at how ridiculous it sounded.

“Mugs can’t break themselves,” she sighed.

“No, it did,” he protested. His boots still rested in the corner. How had he done that? He thought about what he wanted to do, picturing himself doing it, and focused. He thought about what the boot represented; places he could no longer go, namely outside. Her light fed his energy and the boot shot across the floor, striking the foot of the bed with a dull thump. She jumped up, her hand coming to her mouth.

“How did you do that?” She gasped, taking another step back.

“I focused on it, and the space around it,” he shook his head. “It’s like feeling your thoughts.”

She moved closer, picking up the boot to look at it. Her frown deepened. “It’s so strange.”

He nodded, still letting the situation sink in. After setting the boot down in the corner, she met his eyes again.

“You’ll have to be careful.”

Her voice was rarely forceful, except when she was afraid or worried about him. This seemed to combine both of those emotions. He was still more focused on what he could do that he avoided dipping into her thoughts. Her voice told him enough.

“I will.”

Gathering up the shards in the tails of her tunic, she quirked a questioning eyebrow and then left him again. He needed to rest, but the lingering thoughts about being held captive kept his mind active, taking over what had just happened. He shifted off the bed, removing the extra linens and clothes, tossing them in the corner. They wouldn’t need them any longer.

Frowning at the pile, he slowly picked up each piece and folded it as best he could. His hands felt clumsy from his lingering frustration. The pressure in his lungs finally started to increase again and his head felt light. He rubbed the implant and felt like resting again. Her thoughts were quiet, reading the youth zine as best she could downstairs. He frowned at the idea of separating the beds, but recalled her confusion in the alcove. The future shouldn’t be bothering him that much, but it was always lurking. He wanted his memories, but now he had another interest. He left the beds as they were, removing his outer clothes and slipping under the sheets. The wear of the ordeal would be gone by tomorrow and he’d test the strange powers again.

His mind was drifting, in between being asleep and awake, when she entered the room. She quietly undressed and he felt her body at his side, despite the still humming stream. He reached up to stroke her hair, enjoying being able to touch her without her looking slightly annoyed, but still worried about what would happen when he felt the expanse of skin that he knew but also was unfamiliar with in the way that his body was pushing towards. He rolled to face her as his eyes starting to grow heavy.

“I want to be in your bed,” she whispered, placing her hand on his. “It was hard to be without you, even if it wasn’t that long.”

Her presence lulled him like a soothing song. He kissed the top of her head.

“I want you to be here too.”

He set his head back and she rested against his bare chest. He shifted his arm to grip her closer, no longer needing warmth but contact instead.

He fell asleep, feeling her heartbeat.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pair share late night confessions.

 

She was tracing a slow circle on his chest when he blinked awake. It was still dark out and sleep hung in his lungs; he still hadn't adjusted to the days yet, but was nearly there. It was frustrating to have to adapt to a longer time frame. Now that the stream was back, they wouldn't have to spend the long nights huddled together. He took a deep breath, enjoying the sensation of her hand against his skin as he shook off the last of sleep.

“I wish I could hear your thoughts,” she whispered. “How it is to feel just a little more whole.”

“I’m sorry,” he said in a hushed tone, reaching to stroke her hair again. “I meant what I said before. I want to be close to you.”

“But?”

Her voice filled his pause. He had to force himself to breathe, and actually talk to her.

“What happens when we leave here? If they let us leave?”

She sat up, meeting his eyes. “What do you mean?”

He had to tell her. She might be able to help him sort through his scattered and nearly paranoid thoughts.

“I realized it last night. They could be holding us captive, for ransom. I could have been taken to show whoever they are exploiting that I’m still alive,” he felt himself wake up even more, remembering his thoughts from the previous night. It was like a growing hole inside of him that he wanted to dive into. He sighed, briefly looking up at the ceiling before turning back to her.

Her eyes were wide. “It…we haven’t considered that before.”

He nodded. “Maybe we didn’t want to think about it.”

Sighing, she shifted to rest by his side. She reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. Just having her close made the thoughts less aching. “It’s possible. We could be prisoners.”

He tried to resist slipping into her thoughts and it was too tempting. She was afraid, both because of his theory and what might happen if they were separated. She didn’t want to be left alone there, maybe for much longer, if he was taken again. But she also wanted to be stronger, to fight against it. He wanted to take that fear away, but was slightly proud of her resolve not to accept things at face value. Had he taught her that?

Her hand was still resting on his chest, sending warmth down his body.

The dawn was coming and the day would start. But the dark meant he could test the limits of the peace of their sleeping space.

Being this close, he didn’t want to turn back.

He was finally awake and alive and could almost breathe easily for once without that much pain. He held her eyes in the fading darkness and her lips parted to exhale and her thoughts brushed his mind again.

Leaning forward, he captured her lips in a kiss, lifting his hand to brush her cheek. She deepened the contact, dipping her tongue into his mouth and arching towards him. She tasted like stale chai; how long had she been awake? She hadn’t been tired the night before, kept awake by her own thoughts. He pressed deeper, sweeping the inside of her mouth until she tasted like herself again. It was sweet, warm and delicate.

He parted, meeting her eyes again. She truly was beautiful. He wanted her to believe that, but knew that she would always doubt him. Could he show her somehow? Her hand traced up his bare arm to rest against his shoulder.

He could stop now. But didn’t want to.

He met her lips with a deeper need and she inhaled, her hand gripping his skin. Grasping her back, he pulled her closer with both arms. Her skin was delicate under his hands, expansive and soft and felt never ending. She’d been there the entire time and only now was he truly feeling her. He tasted the inside of her mouth again and felt her shudder as their teeth briefly knocked together in a moment of heated clumsiness as he pressed deeper into her mouth: her teeth, her tongue, and the still lingering spice of chai. They weren’t cold during this night, but he still wanted to return to the first night: her skin and warmth, her fear and then comfort.

He tugged at her body and she shifted to straddle him, briefly breaking the kiss to adjust her weight. This was dangerous, how she spread his legs around him. She was on top of him and the sensation went straight to his groin. She hissed, feeling his growing hardness. She was doing this to him and the realization made him regret all of the wasted time. He wanted her; he’d felt the tension building since she’d kissed his hand. The contact during sparring was nothing like this; he felt passion rise in his chest as he reached to cup her breasts. He hadn’t noticed that the wrap was off until his hands met skin. He groaned, finding the tender buds on her chest. She inhaled, sitting back to look at him. He sat up, needing to feel more of her, looking up and down her body. She was light but her body was firm, yet soft. He wasn’t able to sort out his feelings, letting the rush take him. He hadn’t thought much about his own form until she was putting pressure on his hardness, causing the growing warmth in his lower half.

Pulling her forward, he felt her gasp against her chest. She ground against his erection, shivering.

They were two people without pasts, grasping at a shared feeling of need. He caught a stray thought about how he would feel inside her and nearly came. He pulled back, breathing heavily.

Her eyes were questioning before she blushed. He gripped the light elastic of her bottoms and she bit her lip. They could stop now and not risk the consequences; he wasn’t sure if the thought came from her or from himself.

He waited a fraction of a second too long and a low panic returned to his mind.

There would be consequences.

This was a test.

His instincts were warring inside him and he stilled.

His hands dropped away.

After a heartbeat her head fell and she moved from his waist to sit beside him, her mouth in a sad line. The idea that they were captives thundered in his head, but she was just feeling rejection. They were alone; they were trapped. He needed release and she wanted him, but his body couldn’t overcome his intrusive thoughts.

She looked across the room, covering her breasts and curling her legs up to her chest, sadness starting to wash over her. Her thoughts drifted to his head; she didn’t want to be confused, but he was pulling her in two directions. He had the power and she was still submitting to what he wanted. What she wanted came second.

But this was something that she desired and he was letting the moment get away from them.

“Why did you pull away?” Her voice was small.

“I’m…afraid,” his voice was also unrecognizable. He felt weak and inadequate compared to the expanse of her sadness. “You can be afraid too. I don’t control you.”

“Don’t you?”

He uncomfortably sat up, daring to rest his hand on her lower back. Her chin was set against her knees but she didn’t move from his hand.

“I don’t try to.”

She sighed, glancing at his body and avoiding his eyes. “I know that you don’t. It’s not your fault that we’re here.”

“It could be,” he shifted the covers as he moved closer to her, trying to hide his desire. “Maybe the implant didn’t malfunction. Maybe I’m what they want.”

“Then what am I?”

He knew what he felt from her. She was only a background to his emotions, the one who fixed the things that he destroyed. But now, here, that wasn’t true. Touching her had shown him what he had been missing beyond his memories, beyond the extra sense that had been granted him by mistake.

“You’re what makes me feel nearly whole,” he traced his hand up her spine to rest on the back of her neck. “We don't have our memories, but I have you.”

“But what am I to you?”

She was rarely this vulnerable and his hand stilled.

“What answer do you want?”

Her eyes quickly looked from his back to the dimly growing dawn. “An honest one.”

He was trapped by his own question. Fine. “You’ve made living here manageable. Not just in the things that you do, but who you inherently are. You’re so much more patient than I am. You dealt with being alone in a way that I would not have been able to. That’s who you are to me: stability. Home. Even if we are prisoners, you make this…home.”

Her shoulders straightened and she sat up. “This isn’t just…taking my thoughts?”

“No,” he answered instantly. “This is…I’m answering your question. Honestly.”

Her eyes were soft when he focused on her face again. “You’re home to me too. But I can’t lie and say that I don’t share your worries. They promised us an end that we can choose. But that could also be a lie.”

“In this bed, there will be no lies,” he finally said. “We can have that.”

She gave him a small smile, reaching for the blanket and pulling it to cover her. With the fabric between them, she rested her head on his chest again, like it had been before. But guilt still haunted his thoughts. He’d pushed her away because he had been weak. He didn’t want her to think that way about him.

“What do you want?” he whispered into her hair. “Tell me. I won’t touch your mind.”

He felt her head shift to rest her chin on his chest. “I’ve been awake for a few hours. I’ve been thinking about this conversation and I still don’t have an answer.”

“Then what do you feel? Forget thinking.”

She sat up, her slightly chilled hand tracing up his chest. “I feel like I…like this difference in you. But I still don’t know where it will you take you. I’m still just a bystander in both of our fates.”

He held her eyes and tried to shake his head. “I can’t find an answer that doesn’t sound hollow. But I will try to be better. This is also your story, from my point of view.”

He caught the shape of her breasts in the bluish dawn from the window and felt his desire returning, but this had to be her choice, despite what he wanted. She had made that clear. She caught his gaze and leaned down to kiss him lightly and then rested against he shoulder.

“But what if this is all some game by outside players, and it’s all pointless,” she sighed into his ear. “What if we’re both meaningless?”

He brushed his hand down her back and let the thought battle against his pull for something greater for himself. There was something beyond this; she was wrong. She had to be.

“I don’t think you’re meaningless,” he finally shook his head. “Not to me.”

She gave him a small smile and kissed his chest. Her breathing slowed and she slept again.

He watched the sky start to warm into full dawn with her head on his chest.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They clash over whether or not they are prisoners.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks SO much for the comments and kudos so far. I'm trying (still) to navigate something in universe so I'm glad everyone is enjoying it. Thanks for reading :)

 

 

The feeling of the words that they shared and having her on top of him was persistent throughout their morning routine. He would brush against her to bring down the dishes, enjoying her small smiles. But the idea of being prisoners, and how he had been taken separately from her, made dark thoughts loom about their connection outside of the space and their memories. He had to touch her each time one of those thoughts brushed across his mind.

For once, he craved routine.

They ate, cleaned, and sparred before he let the midday exhaustion weigh down on him. He’d enjoyed trying to manipulate the space around her while they wrestled, until she finally mock glared at him, pulling him into a playful kiss after he had pinned her. He’d nearly been able to drag her down with his mind a few times and that helped turn his mood. He drank in the energy swirling around their bodies, almost thankful that he had been taken so he could feel her in a different way. He rested above her on the floor, stroking her hair.

“Was this morning a mistake?” she asked, caressing his hand. Sweat glistened across her face and he once again had to remind himself that her thoughts were also important to him. Getting carried away was too tempting.

“No,” he kissed her again, feeling the hints of salt on her lips. “I like touching you.”

She shifted beneath him to sit up, gently pushing him off. “I missed having you here.”

“I wasn’t gone for that long,” he rested on his knees. “And I hope that I’ll never be gone from you again.”

She got to her feet, brushing her hand against his shoulder as she moved to the fresher. He watched her linger in the doorway, looking at him with a light smirk in her eyes before closing the door.

He sat on the floor, waiting until the water sounded before moving.

His hand grazed the door. He could feel her cleansing her body, almost tempting him to enter and join her.

Desire brought his hand to the handle.

But his mind made him turn away.

He wiped at his face, stalking angrily into the lounge.

He was staring at the same page of one of the thicker books when she returned, dressed in one of the longer tunics that reached just above her knees. He smiled at her as she sat next to him. His hand brushed her bare leg and he was thankful for her choice of clothes.

“This is one of the boring ones, isn’t it?” She asked, glancing at the page.

“Someone wrote a tome about the minerals in a specific ridge in the western continent,” he brought his arm around her. “You’re warm.”

“You could have joined me,” she smiled at him.

“Another time,” he kissed her forehead. “I promise.”

She met his eyes and he realized he would have to keep his word. His body definitely wanted to.

They read together until she yawned.

“Who cares about minerals this much?”

He closed the book, glancing at the cover. “Rith’lak Azurl. He’s probably the one who decided our reading material.”

“Bore us into compliance.”

“He didn’t even include illustrations,” he smirked. “His imagination is questionable.”

She laughed, rising from the couch to stretch. “I’m too tired to eat.”

He tossed the book aside, contemplating burning it if he got the chance. He followed her up the stairs, deciding his shower could wait. He mostly wanted to have her in his arms and sort through his thoughts while she slept.

She curled against him, yawning again.

Hearing her breathe made him feel comfortable, like a gentle rhythm that broke the silence of his own thoughts. She was real and alive and had looked at him with true feelings, or what he thought were true, despite how his hand had fallen away, both from her body and the door. He could touch her, but was still afraid. He was always more focused on the future than she was and that was a thought he had to work on. She was asleep again, her head turned away in the afternoon sunlight. He slowly turned, spooning against her, careful not to wake her.

He brought out weakness in her.

But he wanted to give her strength, in his own way.

He was tempted by when he had tried reaching out for the implant. In sparring, he could move her with his mind. He'd broken the mug and could cast his thoughts outside of the prison that they were being kept in. Despite how her thoughts made him feel relaxed, when they weren’t humming from her then he could focus. If he could disable her implant in the minor way that they had done to him, then she could help him work on the other things in the house: the shielding, the door. That would help them escape without the threat of their memories. He was starting to fear their return and what all of his internal struggles meant for them.

Like with the mug, he reached out and found the mechanism of the implant, nestled in her skin.

He traced his own, finding the small flaw that let part of his mind reach beyond him.

He sought that out in her mind, pressing on what he thought was right.

Narrowing his eyes, he put pressure on it until he felt it snap.

She woke up with a scream of pain, pushing against him to sit up and grab at her head. Her hands were wild, clawing at her hair.

“What did you do!” She yelled, scrambling from the bed, landing hard on the floor.

“I…I…”

Her cries filled the air and she looked at him with fear. “I didn’t want this! What did you do!”

He tried to reach for her and she shoved him away. He felt the waves of pain rolling over her, along with the hints of memories.

Him driving a weapon into an older man.

Her pain and rage at the action.

Him killing countless others, viewed from her eyes.

He was a murderer, a monster.

Her eyes filled with tears, not letting him come closer as she backed into the corner. Even in her visions, he couldn’t see his own face. It was obscured, but he still knew it was him. Her mind told him that.

In his panic, he reached for her mind again, knocking her unconscious in her weakened state.

All of his fears had been confirmed.

Breathing heavily, he reached for her implant, correcting his mistake, trying to undo everything. Drawing himself into her mind, he did the only thing that would make her his again.

He found her memories and took them from her.

When he reached for her mind again, he only found confusion about what happened as she woke up. He brought her back to the bed and she coughed, sitting up with dazed eyes.

“What happened?” She asked, numbly reaching for his hand.

“Do you remember?” He held his breath until she shook her head.

“Only being in pain,” she frowned, her voice weak. “Was it the implant?”

He nodded, guilt spreading throughout his chest as she rested against him.

“I…fixed it,” he winced to himself. “They shouldn’t be coming.”

“Mmhmm,” she mumbled, in a daze. “I need to sleep.”

He waited until she slept again until he fled downstairs.

What had he done?

His heart thundered in his ears, trying to force out steady breaths.

Damn this place and damn his impulsiveness.

Gripping the table, he reached for the memories and carefully examined them. Whoever he was, he wasn’t sure he wanted to go back to that.

He focused on the last few minutes, both what he had seen and what he had done to her. His hands shook as he poured all of his efforts into purging the thoughts from his mind. His knees gave out as he felt a numbness start to spread across his memory. The thought he tried to replace it all with was wanting to leave under his own power, not allowing them to return to their previous lives.

And then it went black.

 

-=-

 

She woke up still wondering what had happened. Her head was heavy as she rubbed at the implant. It was later in the afternoon and nearly evening, so she wasn’t sure how long she’d slept.

Lifting herself from the bed, she massaged her chest. He was sitting at the table, still looking unshowered. His hair looked unkempt and he looked vaguely exhausted. Had he even slept?

“Are you okay?” He asked, lifting his head from his mug of chai as she stood at the top of the stairs.

“Tired,” she shook her head. “What happened?”

He shook his head, frowning. “I don’t remember. Maybe there was a temporary malfunction for us both. I woke up on the floor. I don’t remember how I got here.”

She exhaled, shaking her head. “You woke me in bed. I was in pain. I have no idea what happened.”

He glared at his mug, willing it to rise from his hands.

The mug quivered as it started to lift from the table. She held her breath as he sent it across the space, into her hand. Gripping it, she bit her lip. The water was quite hot. If he had doubted his control, this could have harmed her. He’d also broken a mug yesterday. Despite what he said, her patience couldn’t be endless when it came to this. He still treated her with the same expectations that she would bend to his needs, despite what he said.

“This is still strange,” she said, joining him at the table.

“But also amazing,” his hand brushed hers. “It could help us escape.”

“Levitating a mug?”

He smirked at her, but it was hardly a lift of his lips. “No, the other part. I can sense them, what’s near here. If I can focus this energy, harness it, that could overpower them.”

She studied the distant excitement in his eyes at the prospect of escape, but had to remind him of reality. Maybe he only feared the future that he couldn’t control? “They still have the power over us.”

“I know, but we also have time to plan,” he nodded. “If they come after one month to resupply, we have about another month to see if I can do the same for you. I can feel this power in you too. There is more to this. I just need more time to focus and explore it.”

There was a resolve in his eyes when he looked at her. She again wondered about how he had gotten downstairs. She agreed, partially, but couldn’t avoid the fact that there was something physically wrong with them. He tilted his head, feeling her doubt. She took a long drink of chai and exhaled. He stood, shifting to kneel by her chair. He looked at her fiercely, taking her hand.

“I want to save us both,” he said. “You have to help me.”

She nodded quickly, squeezing his hand. “You will have to let me.”

“Yes,” he kissed her knuckle. “We can find a way to escape. I know it.”

She tucked a hair behind his ear, not wanting him to feel her doubts.

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He pushes them apart, but then she brings them back together.

 

He was slowly tearing her apart, and she was starting to think that it was on purpose. The tenderness that they shared in the bed that night was almost becoming a distant memory. He'd still hold her at night, but the days were filled with frustration that was beginning to make her ache as time stretched on towards the arbitrary set by their captors. 

He had tried everything possible for two standard weeks before she had been pushed nearly to a breaking point. She had a hard time understanding where this new drive was coming from. Part of her wondered if someone had actually taken them in the few moments of memory loss that had occurred. That was the only explanation.

He’d lift random objects, holding them in the air until he was exhausted, his hand outstretched until it was shaking.That was something he discovered in his numerous attempts to harness the power that had been given to him. He’d interrupt whatever she was doing to describe it as progress, pulling her into a kiss. He’d hold her close and look at her with adoration. It was like he was two different people: one determined to push them apart and one that wanted to be with her. It was hard not to get drawn into his excitement, until he would withdraw again and ignore all of the minor chores at the end of the day.

Then, he turned his focus to the door in the storage room. That was two of the planet’s days of frustration. He told her that he found the locking mechanism, but couldn’t open it. His shoulders would go rigid and he looked like he wanted to tear the thing down with his bare hands. He’d be silent for hours, and then fill her space. He would have to be asked to do simple things. He’d nod and at least not look annoyed, but it was still a change from being able to depend on him.

He wouldn’t touch her for half the day, then he reach for her in the night and stroke her hair, thanking her for everything she did during the days. She’d rest against him, yearning for something more than his distracted affection.

She would try to keep up with her reading, asking him in calmer moments for help. He’d look slightly irritated and then it would melt away and he’d sit with her, his arm around her shoulder. His conviction bled over to her, but only to a point. He could sense her annoyance, but she tried to keep part of it locked away. He would get distracted with a smile and then go back to his routine of lifting the furniture.

He was getting impatient and was fighting against himself to let it spill over to her again, she realized.

They weren’t arguing, but there were long silences.

There were tense meals in which he would rather discuss what he had been doing most of the day, knowing full well that she was aware and har ben there, or in the next room. This type of small talk made her miss the silence, but regretted that thought when he turned mute again. He was either ignoring her feelings or thought things were fine.

It was almost like he was gone again, but flashes would bring him back, tempting her.

And it hurt her heart more than she wanted to admit.

Last night, he’d done a simple thing. She was getting ready for bed, stretching in the lounge space, wearing a light shirt and leggings. The day had felt endless for her as she tried to fill her boredom without disturbing him. He had spent most of the day in the storage room, only emerging to train for a few hours, eat, and shower. But when he heard her preparing for sleep, he stood from the room. Instead of saying anything, he’d just touched her bare shoulder, giving her a small smile. He must have felt like he had made some sort of progress. Whatever he thought progress was, anyway.

She returned the look, reaching to play with his hand. It had been one of the few touches they had shared that day. “Will you be up for long?”

He’d been spending more nights on the door or toying with manipulating things in the house, coming to bed later and later. That meant he’d spend most mornings lounging in bed until he was hungry. She wanted to keep her routine, but he was breaking off into his own world. She thought she had a place there; what was he thinking about?

He had only nodded. “It won’t be long.”

Upstairs, she had sighed in the darkness, hearing him move the furniture and mutter to himself. She closed her eyes, trying to force sleep to come.

She awoke feeling his hand trailing down her side, under her light tunic. She forgot she had fallen asleep with it on. He was awake before she was for once. His hand was warm and she couldn’t tell what the touch meant. Had he even slept? Was it the warmth from two weeks ago, or was it something else? He had felt her wake up, because his hand shifted to caress her stomach, drawing her closer. She turned to rest against his chest, lingering in the last of sleep. It was easier to feel less sad when she slept. She let out a shaky breath.

“What’s wrong?”

She opened her eyes, studying his skin in the slowly emerging morning sun. They were both paler now from a lack of natural, direct light. “It’s…nothing.”

“Are you ill again?”

She blushed, burrowing against his well-muscled chest. At least he remembered. “No. It’s not that.”

He lifted her chin, making her meet his eyes. They were the same brown that she’d grown so used to. “You’re upset that I’ve been spending too much time trying to find a way out.”

She nodded, keeping the eye contact. She still hated having him in her head, but she hoped it would be easier for him to understand how he’d pushed her away in his sudden, but justified, urge to escape. “Yes.”

He winced. “It’s for us both. But I’m sorry if I’ve been neglecting you.”

“Does it feel like you have more control over it now?”

Nodding, he gave her a small smile. “It’s stronger now, yes. But if I’m hurting you…”

“You are but…but if leaving can get us answers, then maybe…” her voice trailed off as his hand brushed her cheek.

“No lies here.”

Her eyes fell. “I want to be closer to you, but you’re pushing me away. You asked for my help, but it’s like you don’t need it.”

“I’ll work with you today,” he stroked the back of her neck, sending tingles down her spine. “We’ll try to get you this power.”

“Are you sure that I even have it?” she asked, leaning into his touch. She missed his hands. They had come together for only a short time and then he’d created a space between them, still daring the future to separate them.

“Come here,” he whispered, pulling her closer, nearly on top of him. His hand warmed the back of her neck and she heard him sigh. She shifted to stretch out, resting her head against his shoulder. “Close your eyes. Let me into your mind.”

She stiffened instantly. “How do I do that?”

“Empty your mind, like before sleep. Don’t think,” his voice was low. “Trust me.”

She slowly shut her eyes, feeling his hand press lightly against her.

A few heartbeats passed and he made an annoyed sound.

“There’s something wrong,” he mumbled. “It’s been damaged somehow.”

She sat up, shaking her head. “When we passed out? The lost time?”

His eyes were still closed and she searched the focused look on his face. His forehead creased as his eyes blinked open. “Could I have done this? Hurt you?”

She sat up. It was something she didn’t want to think about. “But why can’t you remember doing it?”

He reached to stroke her hair, twining his fingers around a strand as sadness passed over his face. “I’m…I hurt you. And then I kept hurting you.”

“No,” she shook her head, placing her hand on his chest. “You’re trying to get us out. You care about me, you’ve shown that. I need you to not pull away from me. Please let me help you.”

His eyes were locked over her shoulder, studying the wall instead of her. It was so easy for him to go blank and pull into himself and she wasn’t going to let him keep getting away with it. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his, trying to bring him back from his thoughts. He was slow to return it, lips unmoving as she kept on and ran her hands up his chest to settle on his shoulders. He finally pressed back against her lips as she arched against him. Not having his arms around her for so many hours each night made her crave the contact, even though he spent his days frustrating her. The thought must have reached him as his kisses grew deeper and more searching. She wanted to learn how he kissed and keep the memory with her forever. His hands slowly found her tunic, lifting it over her head. Feeling the rush of lingering cold in the air she shivered as she met his eyes again; he still looked conflicted. He was about to speak when she rested her hand on his faintly reddened lips to silence him.

He surprised her by kissing her fingers, gently meeting her eyes.

“I need to make it up to you, ignoring you,” he whispered, his hands drifting to her midsection. “Do you still want me?”

The question surprised her. She shifted her hips, sitting up and settling her groin closer to his to gaze down at him. “I haven’t stopped. Who are we, to each other?”

“A balance,” he answered. “Please keep helping me, no matter what I do.”

She tried to keep her face neutral but felt her eyes betray her smile. “I want to try.”

His hands wound up her back, pulling her towards him as he kissed her again, tenderly hunting her mouth for answers. Sighing, she returned the gesture, pressing her tongue into his mouth and she was lost. He must be tasting the inside of her teeth and feeling the softness of her cheeks; she did the same, shifting her body as her mouth continued to meet his. His hands were exploring her skin, nails lightly scratching at her back and sides. His touches were still showing that he was studying her as well. On top of him, she ground her hips forward and the sensation of arousal replaced frustration. She guided his hands to her breast wrap and helped him remove it. Finding more skin, he moaned when their lips met again.

“I wouldn’t survive here without you,” he whispered.

“I wouldn’t either,” she looked down at him, hands once again braced on his shoulders. “But I want this. And you. Forget the future, for now.”

She leaned forward to kiss him and he shut his eyes finally. She felt his hands trace up her bare thighs and felt a shiver ripple through her body. Deepening the kiss, he pulled their mouths forcefully together again, gripping her face and biting her lip. Feeling his hardness start to grow beneath her, she rolled her hips to thrust against him. She didn’t want him to stop this time. She wanted to be closer to him, to ground him.

He pulled at her back, tugging her to her side, his hands growing more urgent. The bit of force both exhilarated her and reminded her of his strength. Her heart quickened as his hand caressed down her body, hands large but soft. His hands had changed in their time here; in the beginning, there were callouses and a lingering harshness. Now, they were for her.

Lying beside him, his hand trailed down her stomach as he pressed his lips near her ear.

“Part of me doesn’t want my memory back.”

“Why?” she asked breathlessly, feeling his hand slip under the fabric between them, the last of her undergarments.

“Because then I’d only remember this, and you.”

He tentatively found the start of her wetness and she shuddered at the touch. He kissed her lightly as he pressed a finger down her slit. Breaking away, she met his eyes and he asked her permission again in the gaze, needing to give her the power. He owed her that. She bit her lip and nodded, dropping her head back. She felt her desire growing as he shifting his hand to grip her waistband. She let him gently pull them down, squirming out of the light clothing. Their lips met again and he settled beside her. As his hands travelled up her body, she felt like he was finally looking at her with true feelings for the first time in weeks. A dark thought crossed her mind that she could just be another project; the second it passed through her head he kissed her, gripping her with both arms and pulling her against his chest.

“Never, no,” he whispered, his lips brushing her ear. “Come here.”

Like a sudden rush, he was kissing her, warm hands stroking her body, landing on her breasts. His mouth traced down her neck and her body felt warmer as he brought his lips to one of her breasts, his mouth tracing around her nipple. She felt every part of her body shiver at the sensation. A moan escaped her mouth as he caressed down towards her stomach. Kissing down her body, her hands found his hair as he dipped his tongue into her navel. He was close enough to catch the gentle scent of her need, she suddenly thought; he wanted to taste her. And she wanted him to.

The space around them felt like it was humming as he settled between her legs. It was a sensation that made everything feel more potent and real; there was a glow around them that came from them both, and she could suddenly touch what he must be feeling the entire time since his return. Between her legs, he looked up to meet her eyes, waiting for her to say stop. Her mouth wouldn’t work, so she nodded. He kissed her mound and she rested back against the cushions again.

Drawing his hand up to join his mouth, he found her clit and swirled his tongue on the soft nub. Her thoughts were scattered as he inserted a finger into her warmth as he licked lightly at her growing arousal. It made her vulnerable, but also lit her up inside as his needing mouth and hand started to move faster, drawing a tension to her belly. She couldn’t control the sounds that she was making. Her body was his.

She gasped as he withdrew his fingers; he couldn’t wait anymore. Sitting up, he removed his underclothes and met her eyes. She nodded, spreading her toned thighs again as he settled between them.

This was what he wanted to remember; the thought rang in her head. He wanted her.

As carefully as he could, he leaned down to kiss her, covering her body with his. “I won’t hurt you ever again.”

Promises were dangerous to make, but she felt her heart sing. He brushed his hand down her face, towards her naked chest. This would change everything, but she wanted to share this with him. He took his erection in his hand and gently entered her. He slowed, hearing and feeling her reaction before fully pressing himself inside her. This was more than two bodies meeting. It was like the room was humming as she felt him inside of her. There was no pain, only need.

Like with the first touch and kiss, flashes of memories crossed her mind as he started to thrust. He was inside her body, but also her mind. The memories were scattered; flashes of blue and red on a dark, snow-covered field. Trying to push the thoughts aside, she met his mouth, feeling him bite her bottom lip. His teeth, his tongue, his cock; it was all everything.

Each movement of his hips took her further from the memory and her gasps replaced the hollow echoes of blaster fire and the quake of the earth. She could hear each sound of their flesh meeting and felt it doubly; she tightened her legs around him and moaned, deeply, her hands scratching his arms. Their bodies fit together like they’d been here before, matching one another’s thrusts. Their combined motions and her thoughts made pressure bloom through her lower half. He gripped her leg and groaned and she could sense that he was close. Her body was his, but she also had him. He had her thoughts, but he could also give himself to her; the hum around them seemed to be whispering that to her. The thought pushed the tension between them and his breath hitched. And she was ready.

He came, thrusting to fill her. She gasped as her world greyed out. The thrumming of the air around them swirled and she felt him struggling not to collapse on her. He supported himself, shakily, until she gently pulled him down, gripping his back.

“Did you feel that?” He asked, his voice deep and raspy. “Did you see that?

“Shh,” she whispered. “Shh.”

He kissed the side of her neck, and she hummed at how gentle his mouth was. She didn’t want to part, for him to leave her body.

“I felt it,” she finally murmured. “Was it a vision? Were we fighting them here?”

“I don’t know,” he yawned, but seemed to be struggling against it. Slowly, he left her body and she sighed at the feeling as he settled beside her. What was between them had changed; it wasn’t the silent comfort of sharing warmth to survive, but the afterglow of lovers. She kissed his forehead and silently left him alone. They were tied together in ways that she didn’t understand. It should make him angry, but instead it seemed to be a gentle comfort; for once, a mystery calmed him.

After using the fresher she stopped by the sofa, retrieving his cloak. It was something that still linked them to their outside lives; why wouldn’t he want his memories back? Was she really that important to him?

Her hand slowly fingered the thick fabric, realizing how trying the next few weeks would be. Deep inside her, she still desired her memories, but now she had him. What would she be losing in exchange?

She slowly climbed the stairs, feeling a tingling through her body. He sat up, smiling lightly at her, opening his arms to her. Resting against his chest, she gave him a contented sigh.

“Thank you,” she said, kissing his chest. She didn’t trust what she was going to say next, but let the words come. “I think that I know how you must be feeling now.”

He stroked her hair, humming. “But there’s so much more that I can’t reach. This was…I need this. I needed you.”

She snuggled against him. It was like it was before, except now she could smell him on her skin. She wanted more, but let exhaustion take her as the dawn fully came.

Now, they had another activity.

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after.

 

She slept lightly, lingering in the afterglow of having him inside of her. His skin was warm and firm under her, reminding her that the earlier part of the morning had been real. The sun was relatively high when she blinked awake feeling content. It had been a full circle of events and she still hadn’t caught her breath. His distance had worried her and she hoped that it wouldn’t return. Remembering his eyes and their intensity made her want him all over again and she smirked to herself as she heard his steady breathing. It was one of the first mornings in a while that she felt content to wake up next to him. But she still couldn’t fully let go of how tied she was to him. She wanted to let it bleed away from his touches and words, but things weren’t perfect, even if she wanted them to be. But they were close.

He stirred, reaching for her. His hand rested on her naked thigh, brushing his fingers down her body. “Sleep.”

She smirked, edging closer to him. “Sorry.”

“Fine. Sleep, Rey.”

She turned, shifting in his arms. “What?”

Her question hung in the air, lingering in the sunlight.

His brown gaze met hers, inhaling sharply. His eyes were wild as the hint of a memory passed through his mind. “It…it’s your name. I…I don’t know where it came from, but I remembered it.”

She grinned, leaning in to kiss him. “I have a name. You gave me a name.”

Her heart seemed to rest in her throat. How had he done that?

His hand stroked her cheek as he dipped his tongue into her mouth, sleepily exploring her. She felt the shiver through her body again and sighed.

If she hadn’t fallen for him before, she had now.

It was like breathing into a new life, connected to her precious memories. The name still meant nothing, aside from the fact that he had given it to her. She grinned as she pulled away,

“I have a name.”

“Yes,” he finally said. “Still. Sleep.”

She shook her head, feeling a dual joy blossom in her chest. “I can’t.”

“I can,” he pulled her closer as she resisted. “For once.”

He groaned as she wiggled out of his arms. She left him alone in the bed as he fell asleep quickly. He was still recovering from what had happened, both from his new focus on escape and from being taken, but she had her own feelings to deal with. She wrapped his cloak around herself and moved downstairs. She took a few steps and felt the firm pressure return to her chest. She regretted leaving the bed, but steadied herself on the couch instead, curling up in the dark fabric of his cloak. It almost smelt more like her than him now.

She wanted to be alone. Her thoughts were heavy and she knew that he would find them eventually.

He wanted it to be her choice, but still held his power above her. The gift of a name couldn’t fully undo her fears.

She rested lightly until the smell of food woke her. Stirring, she saw shirtless him in the alcove, frowning at the mess that he had made. It was about time for the mid-day meal.

He didn’t look at her, but still must have felt her. “I’m not getting better at this.”

She wrapped the fabric around her and padded over to him. “It looks fine. Like the last time.”

He reached for her, kissing her lightly. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” she smirked, trying to believe his softness again. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“Well, I’m clearly not doing it well,” he frowned.

She gently pushed him aside. Instead of stepping away, he moved behind her, hugging her as she tried to look over the food. He hummed in her ear and she was torn again. She reached for the seasoning after ignoring him and tasting it. It wasn’t burnt, but was fairly bland.

“You’re not wearing clothes,” his voice hung in her ear. He was only wearing trousers. This was new, a morning after but on a strange planet without a rhythm that she was fully used to. None of this was like it should be. And a part of her liked it. Somewhere inside, she could be greedy too. There was a loneliness within her that had faded with his touch. But she would have to fight against his darker sides. That thought made her pause and his arms tightened, catching her worry.

“I want to be better,” he whispered. “I can be. But you may need to put on more clothes.”

“The cloak is fine,” she tilted her head up and he kissed her cheek. “I may need to launder it.”

“I like your scent,” he stepped back to put his hands on her hips. “You might not need to.”

He lingered there for a moment before stepping away to set the table. It was like their earlier routines, but now they were half clad and wearing one another’s fragrance. Her mind wandered as she turned off the heat. She could stand up to him, but was not completely gentle or passive. She had to trust his promises. The ghosts of his hands still clung to her skin. Were those the hands of someone who could physically hurt her? She heard the sound of clattering cutlery and he looked flushed as their eyes met. He’d felt all of that and she looked at the floor.

“I don’t believe that,” she felt her body tense. “I don’t fear you.”

He shook his head. “Perhaps you should.”

“No,” she shot back. “Never.”

He sighed and she saw the tension fade from his form. She gave him a small smile and he returned it. She brought the pan into the lounge and set it down, quickly pulling the cloak back around her. It had fallen away on the short walk to their table. His eyes had been drawn to her body in the light and it both excited and terrified her. There was so much time left to lose themselves. Other steps had been useful; this was giving into instinct again.

He carefully studied the food, pretending he hadn’t been staring. “You saved it.”

“You teach me how to read, I can teach you this,” she smirked. “We have the time.”

He served her first and she smiled brightly at him. He had been searching for something and had found it in this new ability. She was adaptable; this was her instinct. But this new situation, she didn’t have a reaction to. She was naked in his cloak, sharing a meal with her lover. He looked soft and kind and could feel what she was thinking. These next few weeks would either be splendid or endless.

He could change in only a short span of time.

He filled his plate and tasted it. “I wish I knew what I was doing.”

There were two meanings to that statement. She had to shift out of the cloak to eat and he seemed to only focus on her eyes, ignoring how open she was to him. “You can learn.”

They ate and eventually he smirked. “You’re beautiful, you know.”

“We only know instinct. I’m here, and female. It might not be more than that.”

His face firmed, setting his utensil aside. “Don’t think so low about yourself. Never do that, Rey.”

Just the sound of the name that the thought that she should have made her both smile and pull the cloak closer to her body. Where did that come from?

His head snapped towards the window as she was about to reply and he raised a hand, hushing her. He slowly moved closer and gestured for her to follow. They stood by the large lounge window and she spotted what he had felt. A large, brown-furred quadrupedal animal was stepping into the small clearing near their prison. She stepped closer and felt him move behind her, looping his arms around her. He took her hands and felt another gentle warmth embrace her. She could feel his senses about the animal; the window prevented any sound, but she could imagine the echoes of the snow crunching beneath its large hooves, the fluffy sound of its antlers disturbing a dusting of snow onto its back. It slowly lumbered to the middle of the clearing and turned its black eyes towards them. She felt frozen by the gaze, from seeing another being.

“Close your eyes,” he whispered. “I want to try something.”

She complied, feeling him hug her closer.

Cold.

She was cold instead of warm.

It was cold and the sensation stunned her lungs as she blinked her eyes open. They were both inside and outside of the structure simultaneously. The animal quirked its head at them, but was more confused than anything. It was taller than he was but stood majestically as she looked from it to him.

“How are you doing this?”

“I don’t know.”

Her eyes flicked back to the window. It was obscured from outside. She frowned, wanting to catch a glimpse of her own face.

Her hands felt lighter and her feet left no imprint on the ground.

But the animal seemed to think that they were there and finally took two long strides backwards.

He moved out of their embrace and raised his hand. She held her breath, unsure of what was happening, tugging his cloak closer around her chilled form.

The beast slowly approached him, lowering its head. He reached out and touched its tawny snout. He turned and gave her a small nod. She approached and gently ran her hand down the animal’s long face. It exhaled warmth in a cloud of white. She almost laughed.

“I can feel it.”

He was blinking rapidly and looked suddenly unsteady on his feet. She reached for him and when she briefly shut her eyes and opened them again, they were back inside. He nearly sagged against her and exhaled.

“That was…amazing,” she turned in his arms. “We were outside.”

He kept watching the animal cross the clearing and nodded. It disappeared into the forest and he hugged her again. He’d given her a name and showed her this, but she couldn’t do the same for him.

“I’m glad I could share that with you,” his voice was hushed against her ear and she closed her eyes at the sound.

They stood there for a few more stolen minutes before his shoulders stiffened and he gently pulled away. He sat down at the table and took a long drink of water. She turned and studied him in the sunlight. He was blankly staring at the kitchen alcove, seemingly gathering his thoughts.

“Can you clean up? I’m going to get changed,” she said.

He nodded, giving a quick soft look before returning to whatever he was focused on across the room. She glanced over her shoulder to try to figure out what it was before giving up and heading to the fresher

The silence puzzled her, but she still clung to the sensation of being anywhere other than their space.

Despite what he said, she still shoved the heavy cloak into the washer. It was his, after all.

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More time passes, and a potential way to escape draws his focus away from her.

 

 

The next two weeks were filled with slowly losing himself in her body. The drive to escape still existed, but it faded to a degree. It lurked in his mind, like the gradually fading pressure when he breathed. But her legs, her arms, and her body were there for him and he could bring her pleasure.

But his power was still tempting him at every turn.

He didn’t want to tell her how exhausted he was in the effort to take them outside that day. It drained him to a point that he could hardly stand, but his pride kept him from admitting it. She had accepted his quiet to a point until he felt her questioning thoughts when he rested on the sofa, having ignored the cleaning. His mind was still floating with the feeling of being outside. He knew it existed, but he craved more of that feeling. Touching real ground was like being inside of her; it was real but also temporary.

He still couldn’t grasp how he remembered her name. It floated up to him after sleep like a delicate gift. Hearing her name on his lips made him again fear the future. He got her a step closer to finding a route away from him. She would smile brightly each time that he called her by Rey. Her hand would snake down his arm and she would bring his hand to her mouth, kissing his fingertips.

He didn’t care about his name. But part of him still wished that she could find it in her mind.

But he could have taken that ability from her.

He could imagine himself doing it. He pictured her mind and a part of him knew that he wouldn’t be able to resist dipping into the potential he felt from her. It wasn’t her memories he was after; he was looking for a partner.

He had one, but he still wanted her power.

It was after midday and he was content to watch the sun fall over her skin. She was sleeping against his naked chest, on the couch in the lounge. Her taste still lingered on his lips. He had captured her in a kiss after making the noon meal, causing her to drop the dishes that she was holding. They shattered on the floor and the fire in her eyes drove him forward, stepping on the shards. She instantly had pushed him away from the sharp pieces, worried about his feet. She didn’t realize how he thrived on the reminder that he existed. He drew her in his arms and stepped back, guiding her to the sofa. It had been a normal day until then, but he prospered on change. Being able to make love to her was a new release; he could bring her closer to him and he was starting to crave that as well.

He had pressed her down on the sofa, but let her hands guide him. Undressing her was a gift that he was afraid he would ruin. His hands would want to move faster until she stilled them. He kissed down her neck, caressing her breasts through her tunic. All of the times that they made love he always wanted things to go quicker. He wanted to hear her breath hitch when he entered her. He wanted to feel her wetness when he touched her. This wasn’t the first time that he took her on the sofa. Still, seeing her body made it feel like the first time.

When he was inside her, he caught the hint of her thoughts.

They only had a month left.

And then what?

He tried to push the thought from her mind, gripping her closer and thrusting into her.

But it was still there, even when she gasped and her body quivered.

Now, in the sunlight in the aftermath, he tried to make sense of her feelings.

His drive to escape came from not wanting to know. The frustration of having no memories had been replaced with the urge to get out under his own power.

He slowly moved out from under her, resting her on the sofa. He pulled the light blanket over her body and let her sleep. She stirred lightly and he stood beside her, watching her. He slowly redressed, letting his mind wander.

Who was he before her?

He frowned, scratching at his returning facial hair. It was less annoying than it had been initially, but he worried about how reddened her face became when he kissed her. How hard was it to provide him with a razor, he glared at the wall and imagining one of their captors standing there.

When he cast out his thoughts, he felt a tingling start in his hand. It spread up his arm and settled in his chest.

Something was calling to him, drawing him towards the storage room.

He took two careful steps forward, moving away from her. His curiosity took over and he opened the door, his eyes locking on the sealed case. Why hadn’t he felt this before? He ran his hand over the edges, kneeling down beside it. There was a power in there that might help them out. He could finally protect her from them if they came for her. It had been too long. The supplies were fine, but would run low before their time came to leave. She was frowning more and more each time that she opened the cold storage. Being left alone for this long was both a blessing and a problem.

Tracing one of the corners, he tried to push his mind into the case but he was blocked. That bothered him. If he could transport them outside, why couldn’t he fix this? It was like with the door; there were so many unsolvable problems. The days were long and now filled with warmth and her lips. Were there answers in the case?

He didn’t want to let this consume him.

But it was too tempting.

He wanted to escape with her and avoid the consequences of their pasts.

This could be it.

He exhaled, gripping the case. He had to open it.

 

-=-

 

He was sitting in the storage room, glaring at the locked case when she awoke. She was pulling on her clothes, feeling slightly vulnerable, when she heard him sigh across their space. A dread settled in her chest when she walked to the open door.

He had haphazardly pulled on his clothes from that morning. His hair was still tussled from sleep. What had he felt? She hadn’t been asleep for that long.

“There’s something in here,” he gestured.

“Can you open it?”

He shook his head.

She took a deep breath. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to open it. It felt important,” he said, still focused on the case. By the way that his shoulders were set, the softness from the morning had almost vanished. She took a steadying breath as he spoke again. “I need to find a way to do this.”

The silence filled her; he had been so thoughtful towards her these last couple weeks that she knew that it wouldn’t last forever. They were promised an escape, but he was still determined to forge his own way.

This was who he was: partly a man who could bring her to ecstasy and partly a man who could ignore her in an instant.

And if she confronted him, he would just say it was for them both.

But why should he be the one to decide what direction they would take?

She needed to touch him, to make sure he was still real and not a daydream. Pressing her hand against his shoulder, she saw him stiffen as if she was a distraction. With a frown, she turned away.

“I need to shower,” she sighed, leaving to the fresher. He didn’t react, eyes locked forward.

She tossed her clothing into the washing machine, remembering his hands removing them from her body. The last two weeks had been a refreshing break and now the dark focus had returned. His mind wouldn’t rest.

As she stepped under the warm stream, she wished that he would join her.

But instead she was alone, washing herself.

She wanted to leave too. But she needed answers. He may be afraid of them but she wanted to know what else was out there. The way that his hands felt on her body told her that there was something between them before. How could he not want to know?

She dressed in the lingering steam of the fresher after setting the medpatch on her chest. There wasn’t the enduring comfort of the morning anymore. He wanted something, and he would do anything to have it. But part of her still hoped that it would just be temporary. He might just be tired and grumpy, letting the frustration spill into the latter half of their day.

She half-expected to hear the case crashing across the room, but there was nothing. She rounded the corner and he was still sitting in the storage room. She stilled her hand from brushing her hair and felt the medpatch start to spread its power across her chest. The truth in his earlier words started to nag at her; why had she let him touch her the first time? How could he make her feel something real and then snatch it back only a few hours later?

His face was set in a firm line, like he was trying to will the case to open.

She entered the space and sat next to him. He reached for her hand and squeezed it and she felt a pang from the earlier part of the morning. He was still there, somewhere.

“It must be something important,” she said and he nodded.

“It might be a way to communicate or a weapon; that’s why they’re keeping it from us,” he kept his eyes on the case. “It’s like it’s calling to me.”

She frowned. “You still think that we’re prisoners and we need to escape?”

She left out the last part: _after all of this between us_.

He could only sigh, his hand tightening on hers. “I’m not sure. They might have made a mistake allowing me this power. They might try to correct it. I need to get the most out of it. Before I lose it.”

She leaned on his shoulder and eyed the sealed chest. He briefly pressed against her before stiffening. “But there’s no way to open it.”

“No.”

He lightly pressed his lips to her forehead. It was almost a way of telling her that he would be spending most of the day on this project that would lead nowhere. Gripping her hand into a ball, she already dreaded how this would play out. She didn’t want to move and break their contact, not knowing when he would reach for her again.

When her legs felt numb, she finally left him. He briefly looked at her with questioning eyes and she shrugged. He bit his lip and nodded, feeling her frustration and boredom, letting her go. There wasn’t much to do elsewhere, but at least it would be something she could do with her hands.

She made the bed, delaying making the evening meal, and noticed the folded clothes in the corner of the room. She quirked her head and knelt down next to them. He’d touched her with such gentleness that she didn’t think was possible, but then dove back into silence. Being with him wasn’t easy, but when he connected with her it felt beautiful. His eyes and his hands and his words warmed her heart. Besides the emptiness of her memories, the loneliness was fading.

There were no cold nights, but the threat of silence made her heart shudder when she touched on how she had fallen for him, the good side; but there was always this other part that she wasn’t quite how to deal with.

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After they exchange harsh words, they are paid another visit.

 

Gritting his teeth, he could feel her thoughts upstairs and they were distracting him. The case held a way out; he could get them both out of this prison without having to be chattel. He couldn’t deactivate her device, but he could try to open the case.

She was his; she let him undress her and make love to her. But he also remembered how she detested her inaction when he was gone. She hadn’t taken care of herself. And that was his fault, but it could happen again. And now they were closer than before. He couldn't risk meeting their captors again without something to overpower them. He was torn between wanting to be soft with her and needing to protect what they had.

And then he cast his thoughts around the house and felt a calling from the only mystery he might be able to solve there.

Finding the case in the storage room had set a new tension throughout his body.

Something in there was his.

He had to open it.

He wasn’t hungry, but he wanted to be focused. She made the evening meal and wandered in again to hand him a plate; he briefly glared at it before trying to soften his gaze. He’d heard every step of the food making and felt it strain on his nerves. But she was still herself, trying to balance his mood. She looked at him with careful eyes and left him alone.

Good.

He ate as quickly as he could then pushed the plate aside. It rattled as it slid across the floor and he glowered at the sound.

Something in the case was calling to him, almost more clearly than she had.

She rattled something in the kitchen and he felt the same annoyance he had possessed in their first weeks together. This was their way out, couldn’t she realize that? This wasn’t some minor project he needed to keep himself active.

If there were a weapon in there, he would need it. He wanted to destroy the beings that kept them there.

She seemed initially fine and only slightly worried by his silence. She was content to have him there, in any form. He felt her reliving having his hands on her body and managed to smile at his lapse in concentration. That was a soft moment that he could let himself linger in. The future would be waiting for them no matter what he did. Why was he so concerned with it?

But she grew more annoyed during the rest of the evening, intruding on his thoughts. Only a few hours ago, her thoughts had been comforting, but now they were grating on his nerves. His heart rate increased as he searched for a way in his mind to break the lock.

He focused again on finding the mechanism to open the case and it slipped through his mental fingers. Her musings brushed his mind and he grit his teeth. He wanted to scream and break the case by force, but channelled the feeling into a low, deep exhale.

This was impossible as long as she was awake.

He heard her in the lounge and finally gave up. It was somewhere near midday when he stretched and stood, acknowledging his aching muscles. This meant that they would need to fight through the lingering tiredness of the normal day cycle. He felt a combination of exhaustion and frustration from his failed attempts at opening the case, but he didn’t want to take it out on her. But she was the only thing there. He needed to clamp that down when he saw her resting on the bench, flipping through one of the simpler books.

“What are you reading?” He asked after clearing his throat. He sounded more aggressive than he meant and clenched his hand into a fist.

“The one about he boy lost in the woods.” She lifted her head. She looked calm, but he felt her react to his stance. “I still can’t get the articles right.”

“It’s something leftover from an older form.” He met her eyes with a forced smile, but it felt hollow. Then his shoulders slumped. He hated admitting defeat. “I can’t open the case.”

“I thought so. But soon you will.” She lifted her eyebrows and his frustration temporarily faded. He shifted his weight from side to side, feeling the tingling in his legs. The relief of pain only lasted for a moment. The call of the case seized him again and he hissed to himself.

She set aside the book and sat up. “What’s wrong?”

He roughly sat down beside her, exhaling. Everything was wrong. He looked around their space, taking it what they had and what they could have. His hand slowly clenched again and she shifted towards him, placing a gentle touch on his knuckles. Her thoughts were clearer when she touched him; she didn’t want to see his rage, but it felt hard to contain. They’d taken him and could take her at any time. If they were prisoners, he had to save them. He could hear her in the back of his mind and was pushed to snapping by her simple and repetitive thoughts.

“Chai won’t fix this,” he said, pulling his hand from hers to slam down on the sofa. He stood, stalking away to pace the room. Torn between her and the case, he felt control slipping through his fingers. He pushed her from his mind, striking the wall across the lounge with a shout. Her shock still filled his mind and he was finally annoyed to a breaking point. He was so close to solving this but it was still being kept from him. He turned away, screaming a string of curses to the wall. Why couldn’t he do this?

“Listen, I…”

“No!” He spun and shouted. “This calm, this thing, this _power_ , I need it. We’re not meaningless, senseless beings without a purpose. I won’t let them take me again. I won’t let them take _you_. I need what is in that case!”

“Well, yelling won’t fix it!” She jumped to her feet, not backing down.

“If you could be quiet, I could find a way to open it!”

She rolled her eyes and he felt his anger tighten in his chest. How dare she challenge him when he was doing this for her? “There’s not much to _do_ here that doesn’t make noise. And if you _stopped_ reading my thoughts, then it would be much quieter.”

“If you didn’t shout them, then I’d have an easier time,” he replied through clenched teeth, determined not to hit her. He felt a dark thought curl in the back of his mind. “It could be your fault that we’re stuck here.”

Her eyes widened. “How _dare_ you accuse me of that? You were the one who was injured. Maybe you crashed the ship, for all we know. Where is this coming from? All because of a case?”

“It’s not just the case!” He yelled. “It’s all of this!”

He heard his voice nearly echo around him and glared at her again. Her face was set in a firm, red line, almost trying to press him on. She still feared his anger, but wanted him to release it. Her eyes burnt into him as she stepped forward.

“And what is _all_ of this?” Her voice was low. “Does getting angry fix _all_ of this?”

His hands curled at his side as he glared at her. The part of her hair. The shape of her cheeks. How her tunic hung on her body; the body that he could touch, but only with her permission. She was keeping him balanced, but also holding him back.

He wanted to explode. He wanted the house to implode. The bruise of his taken memories loomed over him and he exhaled sharply in her direction. There were answers in that case and she was keeping him from them. He looked over her shoulder, spotting the book and willed it to fly across the room, crashing against the wall behind him. She didn’t flinch, her eyes locked on him.

“I’m allowed to be angry,” he growled, stepping towards her. “This is an impossible situation.”

“It will end,” she shot back. “Impatience won’t get us anywhere.”

“You couldn’t even take care of yourself properly when I was gone for only a couple of days.” He narrowed his eyes. “Are you telling me what to do? What I can and cannot _feel_?”

“Because I always have to clean up after you! And that was _weeks_ ago!” She shouted, filling his space. “I told you already! I’m always in your shadow—you have all of the power! You said I wasn’t meaningless, but right now I only feel that, with the way that you’re looking at me.”

This was worse than any of their earlier fights. Now he could feel how he could hurt her. He felt her disappointment in how he had changed again, switching from calm to anger. He was weak, far weaker than her.

She took another step forward, filling his space. She wasn’t going to back down.

She was too close.

Her eyes were fierce, not letting him vanish into rage.

He hated himself as his hand shot out, pulling her face to his in a bruising kiss. Her body was stiff and she pushed him back, angrily stepping away.

“Don’t,” she warned, her look cold.

“No,” he reached for her again, overpowering her into an embrace, with his mouth on hers. She resisted him, fighting against his strength. He left her mouth but wouldn’t release her. Panic tightened in her chest along with his arms.

“Let me go,” her voice was small, lingering fear in her eyes. “Don’t do this out of anger.”

“I don’t…I…” Like a bursting bubble, her feelings finally struck him. His hold on her was forceful. She was determined, but her hands were shaking. He’d made her afraid again. He slowly loosened his grip, but didn’t fully let her go. He exhaled, meeting her eyes. “I’ve hurt you again. I said I wouldn’t do that.”

“You promised.”

He closed his eyes and released her. She backed away, glaring, before turning and retreating to their bedroom. He didn’t follow.

His anger bled away and he felt a low sob escape his lips when he tried to speak, to call to her. He’d hurt her again out of anger. Wiping his eyes, he collapsed onto the sofa. He wanted control, but it eluded him.

He sat in silence for a few minutes until he closed his eyes and shook his head.

“I’m sorry,” his voice was shaky. “I’m so sorry.”

Tears started to sting his eyes, replacing the heat of rage from his face. What was he doing? Why did he do this to her again? He quietly wept, out of anger, embarrassment and fear: fear for the unknown and what was inside him. He didn’t know how long he cried. She hadn’t backed down from him, but still refused to let him have his way.

He traced the echoes of her thoughts about him being gone. They had faded, but were still at the edge of her mind. She was worried if he activated whatever was in the case, they would return and remove him permanently from her. She was still torn about the missing memories. He felt the same but had selfishly pushed it aside for his own desires. He was torn between wanting her to feel secure and wanting to escape. He closed his eyes. She was real; escape was not.

Standing, he moved to knock at the door, shifting his weight from side to side.

“I’m sorry,” his voice sounded not like his own. “I didn’t…”

“I know,” she replied, opening the door a crack to meet his eyes. “You need to listen to me, okay?”

He nodded, reaching for her hand. She squeezed it lightly and gestured towards the alcove. “Can you make chai, and then we’ll talk?”

He slowly stood up straighter and backed away from the door, trudging down the stairs. He wanted to shout that chai never solved anything, but bit it back. He’d been pushing her away, then bringing her back to him. He craved her and her kindness and tried to give her that in return, but faltered. It was like escaping; it was always one step beyond him. He numbly heated the water when a dull hum started to fill his ears. The mug he held slipped from his hand as he felt his eyes roll back in his head.

He heard the distant hiss of the outer door opening and tried to fight against the need to sleep. He saw their feet as he felt blackness engulf him.

They were there.

And he was powerless.

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He fights to find her, and escape is within reach.

 

 

The pain was the first thing that she felt, both from her body and her mind. She gasped and tried to sit up, but was held down by something. She wasn’t in the building with him and his regret anymore. She remembered the ache from being knocked unconscious, but not much more.

She tried to control her breathing. Instantly, she was petrified for him. After the argument, she’d hoped that he would calm down and discuss his worries. Sorrow weighed on her as they had grown closer. When he would talk to her, she felt like he was opening up about why he dreaded their memories being returned. Arguing about the case had brought out more of his urgency to be in control. She heard him break down after their argument and knew that she was close to reaching him. But then what? Would they allow them to leave in a month? Would they let them leave together? He was so driven to leave, but did not discuss the return of their memories unless she pushed him. Despite how she felt about him now, she couldn’t leave their pasts a mystery. There were too many questions. There must be people out there looking for them; how could she leave them behind?

Despite his dark side, she wasn’t giving up on him. Her heart wouldn’t let her.

Wherever she was, she hoped that she wouldn’t be kept there long.

She had to get back to him.

Willing her eyes to open again, she blinked at the strange, dimly lit space.

“Chil’thu, sh’nu,” a voice commanded her and she ignored it.

She was strapped to a chair, in front of a holoprojector. Forced sleep still clouded her mind as the room came into focus. Two of the beings were watching her, wearing the same protective medical clothing from before. She hadn’t seen another being other than him for so long. It was like falling out of their bubble into a rush of cold water. They eyed her and then exchanged nods.

One stepped forward and hit a button on a control panel. The holoprojector clicked on as a tear rolled down her face. She was terrified about what they were going to show her.

Her body felt numb as the projection of a dark-haired man looked at her with surprise.

“Rey! It’s okay, we think we know where you are now. They’re making us wait to tell us exactly where. Are you okay?”

She dumbly studied the projection. “I don’t know.”

“Where’s Ren? Is he with you? The First Order is losing its mind!” He exclaimed with a grin, then his face went serious. “You’re hurt. Are they hurting you? Leia wants to…”

She didn’t have time to reply.

The audio was cut off and one of the beings cleared its throat. “More time,” the voice commanded. “Wait and see.”

Who was talking? Where was she? The room spun slightly as the projection shimmered and faded.

So there were people looking for them. They weren’t prisoners. But this could also be part of the lie. This could be a way to confuse her.

She pleadingly looked at one of the beings. “Please let me go home.”

“Not yet. We need to make…assessment,” it shook its head, removing its mask. Which home did she mean? The purple-shaded being almost looked like it was frowning. “Remove your device. Sleep now.”

“No, please, just let me remember something, anything,” she tried to jerk away, but was locked in place. “The man I’m living with, how do I know him? Who is he?”

The being tilted its head. “A powerful man. His people do not…”

The other being cleared its throat. “More…we do not know. Is there problem? We can separate.”

“What? No,” she harshly shook her head. “Please. Who was that, the man from the holoprojection?”

“You will know in three of your weeks,” the first being spoke again. “Better not to know before. Others have…confusion when fixed. Do not fight our cure.”

“This is cruel. It’s cruel to keep basic things from us. You know who’s looking for us and are keeping us purposely isolated. Why?” She yanked at the restraints and glared.

“This is protection for all,” the second being shook its head. “Cruelty is not losing memory. No memories is freedom. Sleep now.”

The being extended the med device and she felt the sting of the injection. She winced, shaking her head. Was there freedom with no memories? How could they think that way?

Instead of sleeping, she floated lightly in-between consciousness. She felt them move her body from the restraints and carry her into another room. More voices joined the first two and she tried to pick out the words before she fell asleep. It was looming, pressing on her. She picked up phrases about how the implant was damaged, and how she was weaker than she should be. She also heard someone mention him and his reaction to finding her gone. They were discussing immobilizing him until they returned her. The words blurred together as she felt a numbness spread across the back of her neck.

What if this killed her? She felt her heart rate dropping as she continued to fight against unconsciousness. What if their last conversation was the aftermath of an argument? What if they didn’t bring her back?

Finally, she slipped into sleep, hoping that she would wake up again.

 

-=-

 

She was gone when he awoke. The house was empty and it was morning. He slammed his fist on the floor and shook his head at his weakness. Pushing himself to his feet, he instantly moved to the storage space. The snow had long since melted, but some of their traces remained in the air. It was like the space kept the memories contained.

She was gone and most of his last words to her had been in anger.

He couldn’t accept that. He wasn’t going to let them make him into a monster in her eyes permanently.

Dropping to his knees, he sought her out in his mind. She was unconscious, lingering in the dreamless black. The facility wasn’t far from there, but it had already been too many hours. They had to be close in order to monitor them. He had to will the door to open. He had to find a way.

Setting his hands on the locked case, he focused his rage at himself and their captors around the space. Instead of opening it, he was going to collapse it. He would crush it with his mind.

They couldn’t keep her from him. They were stupid enough to leave a weapon.

Closing his eyes, he focused on the space around the case. He pressed on the air, making it continuously heavier.

It had vexed him for weeks, nearly costing him her trust. Now he had a true, burning reason to destroy the case.

The case cracked beneath his pressure, but not enough. Drawing on his anger, his hands shook until they cramped.

But it still wasn’t enough.

Swearing, he shoved it harshly across the space. It landed with a dull thud near where she hung her clothing. A tunic fell from a hook, landing on the infuriating box.

She was right; their argument had led nowhere and his anger had only blocked her from him. Shifting, he picked up the tunic and frowned. If anger couldn’t break the case, then there had to be another way.

When he shut his eyes again, instead of drawing on his hatred for their prison, he focused on what it contained. It was her gentleness when she kissed him. It was her patience when he was stubborn. It was how her eyes now lacked sadness and loneliness when she looked at him. The way that she would hold him and touch him brought a warmth to his chest.

Hate couldn’t open the case.

But love could.

Instead of darkness, he looked for a light within him, her light. It was the light he saw each time they made love. It spread through his body, rising from his toes to his fingertips.

With one final, gentle push, the case snapped open.

He took one second to breathe and let the emotions filter through him. He loved her. He needed her. The power made him feel unstoppable in that moment. Reaching inside, he found two communicators and the hilt of a weapon. It rested in his hand like his body knew it automatically. Gripping it tightly, he let his instincts guide him. His finger found the activator and the air was filled with a scorching red blade. It sparked and hissed and just having it in his hands made his body feel whole. The scent of burning plasma filled his nostrils as he swung the blade through the air. This was his. But where was hers?

He left the communicators and turned towards the door. With one arching stroke, he sliced through the door. The metal hissed and melted away and he gripped the weapon tighter. He was going to kill them all.

The door fell away, crashing outside against the shielding. He was met with the sudden rush of semi-blocked cold, storming weather. A blizzard had descended around them and he had been oblivious. The shield still remained, taunting him.

He retraced their motions; how they got in, what the code was. It lingered in the past, within his reach. Finally. Pushed on by her lingering light, but also the pain from the abduction, he pressed forward. Concentrating, sweat dripped down his face. His hands shook and he feel the space around him start to hum with his energy.

With a snap and a hiss, the door made a sad beep. The shielding was down and wind and snow whipped into the storage room, knocking him back.

He ran to gather up his cloak, boots and gloves, not sure when they would realize that he had found a way out. He was leaving.

He had to find her.

 

-=-

 

For the first time, she dreamed. She wasn’t sure how long she had slept. It could have been hours or minutes, but she knew she wasn’t awake when images started to flash through her mind. New memories and old memories warred within her. Sand, heat, and loneliness. Cliffs, cold, and confusion. There was him from clearly before, facing her; she couldn’t hear what he was saying, but he was looking at her with a clear resolve. The memory pressed on her and she finally heard herself say his name.

 _Don't do this, Ben_.

She clung onto the name as the memory transformed.

It started black, then faded into white.

He was there, looking at her with warm eyes. This was him now, reaching out to her.

‘It’s not your fault,’ his voice hung in her mind.

‘Where are you?’

He shook his head. ‘I’m coming. We’re escaping. I love you.’

And then there was black again, but she could feel his truth in the words.

A commotion finally broke through her forced unconsciousness. She winced at the sound of blaster fire, bursting behind her head, like white against a field of dark.

Hands were desperately pawing at her.

Someone was grabbing at her, trying to wake her. Smoke and fear hung in the air, shaking her. Her eyes opened and he was there, lifting her from the medbay bed. Their captors were unconscious on the floor. He had a strange laser sword in one hand and a blaster in the other.

“Come on, get up,” he hissed. “There’s a ship near here. I can feel it.”

“They showed me something,” she gasped. “But I can’t remember.”

“That happened to me when they took me as well. We’re still pawns.”

“There was a man, he knew me,” she shook her head. “There are people looking for us. How are they doing this?”

“I don’t know!” He shouted, forcing her to her feet. “Come on.”

The door to the room opened and they were met with instant blaster fire. He deflected their weapons fire, driving the bolts aside as he shot out at them with his other hand. She ducked behind him, still trying to clear her head. Two more went down. They were getting out of there. How had he escaped?

He grabbed her hand after jamming the blaster in his belt and guided her towards the exit. The cold hit her instantly. A storm raged within the building and outside as well. He pulled her forward, bringing her into the blinding snow.

“We should go back! They’ll follow us,” she called as he forced her onward. The wind whipped at her face and she numbly tried to follow him into the forest.

“No. They took you. I will not stay here another day,” his head snapped to the side and he fired at a figure that she couldn’t see.

He broke into a run and she scrambled to keep up, following the snarling red from his hand. How was there a ship? How did he know? Her arms were bare in the driving snow, blinking against the sharp flakes that stung her face.

She couldn’t hear anything but his breathing, stopping to rest her hand on a tree.

“Keep going, it’s not far,” he reached for her, draping his cloak around her shoulders. “They’re still coming.”

She wanted to admit to her exhaustion, but nodded instead. He pushed forward until they reached a small craft. She didn’t instantly recognize it and assumed it was not theirs. It was larger than a TIE fighter. Her heart quickened. They could leave on their own terms. He had done it. If her lungs didn’t ache, she would have been overjoyed.

His head snapped behind her and he fired into the storm. They were met with a spray of bolts as he switched between searching for an entrance hatch and returning fire. She finally reached for the blaster and he thrust it at her. She fired wildly, not having his sense. If a bolt was coming towards them, she would aim in that direction.

The craft hissed and a ramp descended. She kept firing blindly as they scrambled up, listening to it close behind them.

“They’re trying to immobilize us,” he shouted, pushing in the direction of the cockpit.

Her head felt heavy and she swayed in the small space.

He gripped her, dragging her forward. “I can’t…”

“You need to!”

He dropped her into the co-pilot’s seat and reached for the controls. Her headache started to spread as blaster fire shook the ship. He gritted his teeth, fighting clearly against the pain in his own head. The hum of the device filled her ears and she cried, reaching for him. He powered up the craft with shaking hands.

The last thing she saw was him slump against the panel, blood trailing from his ear as the ship started to lift off the ground.

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Were they able to leave the planet?

 

He was breathing re-circulated air. The sensation tingled his nose as he slowly woke. It was the cold, oppressive air of a ship, not a practically sealed abode on the surface. He tried to take quicker breaths, but was instantly hit with resistance. The pressure was almost overwhelming on his lungs and his head felt light. He fought to take three, deep, even gasps as he adjusted to his surroundings.

He’d done it, but something was off. He opened his eyes, quickly looking over to the co-pilot’s seat. She was passed out, breathing shallowly, but steadily. A nasty gash crossed her temple and he frowned, turning his eyes forward. Instead of the comfort of stars and space, they were in a hanger of a larger ship. His heart fell as he gripped at his chest.

This wasn’t part of the plan, even though he never really had a destination in mind other than _away_.

Forcing himself to his feet, he clumsily pressed a hand to her forehead. She was warm, almost hot. Wherever they were, he hoped it was somewhere unknown to them that could offer help. It could just be a passing freighter. It could be anyone.

His hopes were quickly dashed when he cast his thoughts outwards. There was something malicious lurking beyond their craft.

Clutching the weapon in his hand, he moved to activate the exit ramp. His body moved without thinking through what he might be facing. Their ship wasn’t meant to go far and it rattled as the ramp opened. It hissed and creaked and landed with a hard thud on the other ship’s deck, echoing into the unknown space.

It was a medium-sized freighter, large enough for their ship, but was clearly older and in disrepair. Various other broken-down ships littered the corners that he could see. He had to grasp the exit to catch his breath when he heard a deep laugh from across the hold.

The figure was leaning against a doorway, setting off feelings of contempt when his eyes and his mind found her. A tall, scarred blonde woman with a prosthetic arm quirked her head at his laboured breathing and folded her arms, crossing her robotic over her real limb.

“It is you,” she shook her head as he ignited his weapon. “Now, now, you seem far too weak to put up any real fight.”

“I don’t care who you are,” he spat out as fought to stand straight. “Let us go.”

She stepped forward, limping slightly. Folds of healed burnt flesh covered most of her skin, but her eyes were a stunning blue. Her clothes were grease-stained and dingy. This was her ship, clearly, and she wasn’t where she wanted to be. Her thoughts were aimed on retribution. But she was right; he felt shakier with every second that he stood. But that wouldn’t stop him from trying. He glared, fighting against the need to rest.

“You don’t remember? Is that the problem?” She smiled, scarred skin curling around one side of her mouth. “Oh, this gets better and better.”

He felt his legs start to give out and shot his hand out to steady himself, still clutching the hilt of the vicious plasma blade. “This is none of your business. I don’t care who you are or your pathetic life. My…the girl is ill. If you don’t intend to help us, get out of our way.”

She cocked her head, her thoughts churning. It was strange to have another presence in his head that was so actively aggressive. He felt anger growing in him and had to push it down for once, for Rey.

The blonde woman chuckled at what must have been panic in his eyes. “You’re not even curious as to how you ended up on Kirth’ria? That planet has been damned for centuries and you chose that of all places. You are the biggest fool. And I’m not interested in your girl. That’s someone else’s problem. You, oh you, they want you. The rumour going around is that you were holding some secret negotiations, behind everyone’s back, and _someone_ found out, but couldn’t figure out where _you_ were. But I beat them to you. If there’s one thing smuggling is good for, it’s knowing people who will talk before you shoot them. I’m going to enjoy bringing you to Hux. He will love this.”

The tone of her voice was bitter and came from pure darkness. It was the dark that he felt lurking at the edges of his mind that he had to force away. She knew him in the past but he wasn’t that person any longer. She couldn’t take this from him. Pointing his sparking weapon at her, he focused all of his strength on her mind, snapping quickly to the power of hate that surrounded him. She burnt with animosity for whoever he had been and what had put her in this state. Her mind was so fixated on proving herself that even in his weakened state, he could capitalize on the gaps in her focus. She couldn’t see how blinded she was to it.

“You will release us and inform no one of this meeting,” he hissed, forcing the suggestion into the hollows of her consciousness. “You will forget that you met us and go on your way and lose your anger.”

Her face went blank as he pressed his concentration on escape. He took advantage of the holes in her heart and pushed on the sadness he felt hiding behind her rage.

“I will release you and info-“

Her reply, as well as his focus, was broken by the violent shudder of the ship. He recognized it was a weapon's blast at the last second. He was knocked easily off his feet, quickly deactivating the weapon before he fell backward. She shook her head, looking confused initially and then turning away to rush towards the front of the ship. The door swished shut behind her and he fought against the dizziness that threatened to overwhelm him.

The vessel shook again, harsher. He could hear distant alarms and warning sirens. There was no more time. He couldn’t be weak, not now. Gripping himself to his feet against the wall of the ship, he managed to close the exit ramp and drag himself back to the pilot’s seat. His eyes blurred on the controls. The craft had no weapons; there was no way to blast through the hold’s door.

Another harsh blast rocked the vessel. He cursed, reaching for her, trying to shake her awake. She was still unconscious with sweat beading on her forehead.

They were on two clear sides, but he was working with her towards something. He took some warmth from the thought, trying to draw on the energy. Their pasts had been intertwined. He may not want his memories back, but that part gave him hope that he could convince her of the same.

Being unable to breathe freely made him feel faint. Despite what was happening around them, he reached for her hand and felt himself start to fade.

The ship rocked again and he was briefly jolted awake. The sound was different this time.

The hold had opened.

With unsteady hands, he powered up the engines and thrust the ship forward and into space.

He hazily took in the stars as the pressure spread from his lungs to the back of his head. It started to burn; it was a worse pain than before. He shuddered and felt his body shut down.

But he didn’t sleep.

He could see and feel what was happening.

The ship’s controls were locked from him. He shook, watching the ship slowly turn. He hoped suddenly that it was their captors; now he could place his importance and initial urge to leave and seek it out. He had scraps of answers and it was enough. He didn’t need anything more than her now.

A view of an off-white, hazy planet came into view and he finally closed his eyes. Whatever punishment was coming, he would be willing to take it if they could be together.

 

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of their potential escape hits them both.

 

He was stroking her arm; that’s what brought her out of sleep. She knew it was his hand from the familiar patterns he would make, tracing shapes out of her freckles. It meant that she was home, but had no idea how she got there. She was back on their bed, feeling well rested and could almost breathe easily for the first time in weeks. She squinted against the sunlight as she sat up. He looked at her with slightly sad eyes, as if he’d been watching her for a while. His face lit up when she focused on him.

The room felt cold and she leaned forward, touching his leg. Her body felt slow and she stretched her back, hearing him exhale as she moved. “What happened?”

He sighed, not shifting from where he sat on the bed. “I opened the door. I came for you. I’m so sorry, Rey. I’m sorry I couldn’t save us.”

There was dejection in his voice and she took his hand. She was slowly coming back to herself, but everything still felt hazy. He gripped it back and she could finally focus and noticed the bruises colouring his skin and the torn skin on his knuckles. “How long have I been asleep?”

He closed his eyes and dropped his chin. “About a week. We…I…they brought us back. They have a duty to keep this, whatever we have, from being spread. It’s been going on for centuries. It was _extensively_ explained to me when we landed. I was endangering the entire galaxy. At least your people know where you are; they repeated that over and over again. I am quite possibly the worst patient that they’ve ever had and if I attempt to escape again, they threatened to remove you from me and throw me in a cell until the time is over. I…did not enjoy that conversation. You had a stronger reaction to leaving the atmosphere than I did, so I threatened your life. They kept you away from me and told me that they’d be watching. They only returned you this morning. I enjoyed the time alone even less.”

She watched a tear streak down his face and reached to pull him into her still waking arms. He hugged her tightly and his hands clung to her back. When she leaned back to focus, he looked haunted. She was instantly transported into her earlier despair of being alone, but that was before they had gotten truly close. His eyes told her what he had been through.

“They repaired the device,” he wouldn’t focus on her. “I’m alone in my own mind again.”

She pulled him into her arms again and he sagged against her. “I’m so sorry.”

“I missed you. I couldn’t feel you,” he gripped her body, whispering as he spoke. “You nearly died because of me and this _power_. I’m sorry. We were so close.”

“I was too slow,” her voice shook. “It’s my fault.”

“No, they weakened you,” he sat back, stroking her face. “I should have thought. I should have had a plan.”

She leaned into his hand, remembering the fearful moments in the medbay. “I heard you. In my mind.”

He pulled her closer. “I love you. I love you so much and don’t want to lose you again.”

Sighing against him, she let the words surround her and fill her, their argument long forgotten. It had been his name in the memory, but his words came from him now. Of all the emotions that she had for him, there were only a few words that she could say, if her voice let her. “I love you too, Ben.”

After a brief gasp, he met her lips. She still felt lingering energy from how she had woken up as she returned the gesture, opening her mouth and feeling his passion roll over her. He tongue was warm but gentle as he gripped her face. His sorrow came through as their mouths met. Her hands were shaking as she touched his arms, tracing down his tunic. She brought back his name, despite everything. He pulled her closer, down onto the bed. How could he love her without memories? How could she feel the same? The thought lingered in her mind, fighting against the comfort that his arms brought.

She broke the kiss and rested her head on his shoulder. “They’re going to punish us.”

“I know,” he whispered, tracing down her side with his fingertips. “I was the reason that they cut the stream the first few weeks. This will be worse. It already is.”

She managed to laugh lightly. “I can’t be mad about that. It brought us together.”

“What can I do for you?” He hugged her again. “Please tell me.”

She sighed, unable to fully shake his recklessness. The panic in the woods and the injured beings that littered the medbay weren’t easy to forget. “Why don’t you want our memories back? Why did you try to fight your way out when there was a peaceful way?”

“I wanted answers on my own terms,” he quickly answered. “I got some of them and it was enough. We were working together for something greater than us. I don’t need any more than that. My place is with you. The galaxy can take care of itself.”

She silently bit her lip, thankful that he could no longer read her thoughts. There were people out there looking for her, for them both. Hiding wasn’t the answer. “And that’s enough?”

“You’re enough,” he kissed her forehead. “Can we please talk about this later. I’ve had a standard week to agonize about this. I need some time just to be with you.”

Nodding, she nuzzled closer to his shoulder. He smelt clean, but also stressed. From the state of his hands and his eyes, he’d been broken. Of all that was him, his spirit was what drew her to him. She didn’t want that to fade and hoped that she would bring it back because right now, she could only hear sadness in his voice. She wouldn’t forget, but could push it to the back of her mind. “Of course. Did you sleep at all while I was gone?”

He was silent, until she nudged him. “A few hours. Here and there.”

“You didn’t have to torture yourself.”

“Yes, I did.”

His voice was hollow, like he was only talking to himself. Despite the length of the planet's days, a standard week was an eternity. Losing her and his ability was dual punishment. She sighed; he didn’t have to castigate himself on top of that.

“I missed you,” he whispered.

She thought about her vision and what the holoprojection had said. There were people looking for her, and him, just not the same people. It was like an insect, burrowing into her mind. But still, she loved him. That was a light in the darkness of no memories that she couldn’t lose track of. Could she have both? Somehow, her mouth made words. “I’m glad I’m home.”

“Yes, home,” he sighed, almost with contentment. He rested against her, hands gradually slowing. She lingered in her thoughts, letting the words echo around her.

He fell asleep quickly, almost snoring. She sat up, smiling despite how exhausted he looked. She carefully lifted herself from his arms and dared to step downstairs. He didn’t stir and that made her concern rise. She was surprised that the furniture was still standing. It was when she descended the stairs that she noticed the holes in the walls and winced. It was colder than before during the day; her bare feet tingled against the chilled floor. Did she even have boots in the forest? Retrieving the blanket from the couch, she went into the alcove. Rather than the usual, fresh and frozen rations, there were standardized, dried ration packages. She let out a sigh of relief when she saw that the chai was still there. The punishment only went so far.

Tracing a ragged hole in one of the alcove’s walls, she tried to put herself in his place and imagined his rage, aimed mostly at himself. It was a heavy feeling that almost pushed her into giving up her past. Gripping one of the holes, she felt sadness roll over her. How could she have what she wanted without losing something?

With muddied thoughts, she returned to their bedroom. It was quiet, aside from his deep breathing. It was really home, but homes were always built on something. They weren’t just founded on two forces meeting in desperation for answers, only to find them in one another. Silently, she studied him as he slept. She rested next to him and he stirred, reaching to gather her into his arms. She traced each freckle on his face, then followed her eyes down his neck. What would they do with only names? Who would they be and where would they go?

Resting her head on his chest, she listened to his heartbeat.

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having her returned to him, leads him to making a compromise about their memories.

 

He had to reach to feel for her when he awoke. For a brief instant, he thought that he had only imagined them returning her to him. She was sitting against the pillows, flipping through one of the novels, looking perfect in the sunlight of midday. He gripped her bare ankle, sighing lightly as he sat up. She looked up to smile at him.

It was like she had never left, but she had due to his carelessness.

For once, the silence was comforting.

“You’ve been asleep for hours,” she set the book aside. “You were exhausted.”

He yawned, sitting up to his knees to face her. His body was slow from sleep and he stretched, enjoying having her eyes on him. “I was.”

She tilted her head. “I saw all the holes.”

Cringing, he dropped his head. He tapped on his leg lightly, trying to distract himself. “I didn’t want to break the table again.”

“It’s okay,” her hand brushed his knee. “How are your hands?”

“Sore,” he smirked. “But better now.”

She was silent, running a small circle on his kneecap. He glanced from her hand back to her face. Her hair was damp, hanging long on her shoulders. She must have showered while he slept. He hadn’t noticed how much longer her hair was until now. Their time was running out and he’d spent most of it being angry and impulsive, or lost in how he felt about her. She had met him at every step and somehow, he was still standing. She cleared her throat and he shook his head, still too tired to deal with their looming deadline.

“Do we need to have that conversation now?” He asked impatiently, scratching his eyebrow.

“Yes,” her voice was calm, pressing him to listen. “Ben, we only have two weeks left here and one until they force us to decide. I know that you’ve made up your mind, but I need to have my own opinions. You don’t control me, remember?”

“No,” he nodded, concentrating on the feeling of her hand. “No, I don’t.”

“Hey,” she tapped lightly on his leg. “I’m not mad. Come here.”

Reluctantly, he shifted to sit beside her, stretching out his long legs. He tried not to focus on his own thoughts and listen to hers, but he had been alone for a week. The sounds of his own mind were what he was accustomed to at this point.

She took his hand. “What did the datapad say specifically about returning our memories?”

He sighed, circling his thumb on the back of her hand. “In about a week, we’ll get a message. They reminded me _again_ not to call them. There’s one of them in particular that hates me. They’ll arrive to either remove the implants, or partially disable them. One gives us back our memories, and one will only return our abilities.”

“Both of us? Not one or the other?”

He closed his eyes and squeezed her hand. He didn’t have to read her thoughts to know that the question was coming. “It’s one of their rules. I’m one, and you’re minus one. To them, we need to make zero. It’s a complete circle. They made up their own rules. It’s been going on for centuries.”

She nodded at him, looking more awake than he’d felt in a long time. “Well, let’s think like them. Whenever I make a point for our memories returning, I get a plus. Whenever you disagree and I accept it, it drops down to zero.”

He actually smirked at her game, enjoying the change in subject. “So my votes are negative?”

“I’ve been the negative in their minds the entire time. It’s only fair.”

He took in her smile and nodded, just enjoying hearing her tones again. It wasn’t the hollow sound of him hitting the wall until his hand ached just to distract himself from the emptiness. Her voice made him realize what he wanted more and more.

“Okay, first. You, and possibly I, have powers. We should know why we have them and who trained us,” she moved away to face him directly.

He shook his head. “The implant would be disabled. We’d have them returned to us and could train ourselves without the burden of a master.”

She screwed up her face. “Fine. Zero. Another point is that there are obviously people looking for us.”

“Opposing sides, most likely,” he bit his lip. “I…when we escaped, I encountered a woman. She made it clear that we were working together in secret, likely trying to bridge some sort of dispute.”

“What happened to her?” she asked, concern passing over her face.

“I don’t know.”

“So, if we were to be together, we’d have to pick a side?”

“Yes. If we kept our memories.”

She frowned again. “Okay, put that aside. What about our families? Our friends? I saw a man on the holo who recognized me. He cares about me. Do we leave them in the dark?”

“The galaxy is only so large. We’ll encounter them again at some point,” he didn’t want to tell her that he’d thought through all of these points already. “Reconnection is possible.”

“That’s not a good answer. I don’t accept it,” she sat up straighter. “I get a point.”

“Are you saying I’m not enough for you?” He asked in a light tone.

She grinned. “Who will I complain to when you break another table? Or put a hole in the wall? Or your less-than stellar cooking?”

“Fine. One point for you,” he raised he eyebrows. “But you can make new friends.”

“But not family,” she answered, the light tone fading slightly from her voice.

“I’ll be your family,” he replied, reaching to stroke her face.

Leaning into the touch, she smiled again. He was drawn into her eyes and leaned forward to lightly kiss her before settling back.

“Can I make a point?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest.

“Of course.”

“We’d have no responsibilities. We could be whatever we wanted to be and live wherever we chose,” he shrugged. “It’s a new start.”

“That’s a possibility. We can still learn, get a ship, make a home…” she trailed off. “Okay. Back to zero.”

“But?”

Her shoulders were slightly slumped and her smile was tempered. She sighed. “I still want to know.”

He didn’t want to press why. His feelings from the first few weeks rang in his head, when there was a pressure to act and to find out where he had to be. She had her reasons, and they were clear. He couldn’t deny her of that. What tore at his heart was losing her to her life before him. There was a bond that they shared before, but how deep did it go? A dangerous thought crept across his mind and he had to try.

“What if we made a compromise?”

She raised a single eyebrow.

Taking a deep breath, he took her hands. “We get our memories back, but you stay with me. We’ll deal with whatever my people demand of us and then we’ll find your family.”

“But that’s…you don’t want your memories back,” she shook her head.

He swallowed back his doubts and fears. The brief memories they’d shared and his impulses made him petrified of falling back into his life. “I’d do it for you, if I knew I’d have you in the end, Rey.”

Her face lit up. “Then I promise you, Ben. I’ll go with you.”

She leaned forward to meet his lips, sealing the agreement. He gripped her back, pulling her down onto the bed to deepen the kiss. He pressed his hand under her tunic, needing to push his dark thoughts away by touching her. He’d been craving contact and sighed when he caressed her breasts. She was kissing him back with equal passion, tugging lightly as his tunic as he pressed against her. He hummed, kissing down her face to lightly bite her ear. He missed her clean smell and soft skin. He’d missed the way that his body felt next to hers. He had made it through a standard week alone clinging to memories like this.

She broke the kiss and he was shocked for a second until he saw her hands move to pull off her tunic. He shifted away as she slid out of her leggings. He sat back, licking his bottom lip as she undressed. Her hands slowed at her breast wrap and caught his eyes.

“Are you okay?” She asked, sitting up to brush her hand down his still-clothed chest. “What is it?”

“I just…missed you,” he tried to smile, but it felt flat. He had her back, nearly naked, and could only focus on his own breathing.

She arched towards him, brown eyes brightened by the sunlight, and calmly brushed her lips to the corner of his mouth. “Then show me how much you missed me.”

She laid herself back down and slipped out of the last of her clothes. He watched the cool air kiss her flesh and her skin rise against it. He traced his hand down the centre of her body, between her breasts to her naval.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” she whispered, trailing her hand down his thigh.

He was. Breaking from his doubts, he smirked at her and backed off of the bed. He quickly shed his light tunic and trousers and underclothes, meeting her eyes as she watched him. The chill hit him and he grinned down at her as he climbed back onto the bed.

“It’s cold,” he murmured, stroking her face.

“I know,” she slipped down, her hands stroking down his sides. “Stop worrying. Ben, I love you.”

He bent down to kiss her, settling his knee between her legs. “I love you.”

He felt her lunge against him to meet his growing erection. Caught up in the sensation, he nearly missed what she said next. “You don’t know who I really am.”

Kissing down her jaw, he shook his head. With every word, he pressed his lips to her skin. “I know your kindness. I know your patience. I know your light. The rest will always reflect that.”

His hand was tracing down her body as he spoke, finding the start of the light hair between her legs. Her eyes closed as he touched her, his fingers slipping down her slit. She felt like he remembered, and was just for him. She opened her legs and he grinned against her mouth.

“Missed this.”

“Missed you.”

These moments of tenderness, feeling her hips on his and her body under his, hit the empty parts of his mind and pushed away his fear. She shuddered lightly against his hand and he felt the urge to be inside her overwhelm him. Pulling his hand away, he stroked her hip.

“Turn over,” he whispered.

Smirking, she rolled to her knees and his hand drifted down her back. Smooth, white skin with a dusting of freckles met his eyes. He may not remember any other specific woman, but to him, the curve of her hips was flawless. Her hand clutched one of the pillows as she shifted her weight; she was ready. Moving behind her, he found her entrance and took in the moments before being inside her. She was his and he had her promise.

Taking himself in his hand, he pressed against her opening and she gasped, but he could hardly hear it. She felt tight and glorious as he entered her and his body shuddered and he gripped her hips to steady himself. Yes, this was home.

“Oh, you,” she gasped. “Oh, yes.”

He shifted his weight and ran his hand down her back. He felt her tense against him and smiled as he slowly started to thrust into her, hearing her soft moans as he slid in and out of her in gentle, even motions. Tracing one hand down her back, he grinned and felt his body react to her growing excitement. It was bliss to have her back, like this, in their bed.

His thrusts started slow, but hastened quickly. Her skin was warm under his hands and her body welcomed his with tight wetness. He wished that he could touch her mind, but her sounds and motions were enough. The pressure built in his body as a low moan escaped her mouth when he hit the right spot. He angled his body and heard her cry out, louder than before. He was lost.

Clutching her hips, he came on the final thrust.

The afterglow settled over him like a gentle wave. Even the extra sense he had lost wasn’t this comforting.

Her hand tapped his and he slowly withdrew. She turned around, kneeling against him and pressing her lips to his as she hugged him. Her breasts met his chest and he pulled her closer, feeling the light sweat on her skin. He hummed in her ear, brushing his light beard against her cheek.

“I need to go get cleaned up,” she said, her voice light. “Join me?”

He nodded. “Of course.”

And for a moment, he didn’t regret agreeing to have their memories back.

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day that their memories are returned arrives.

 

The beeping from the datapad woke them. It echoed throughout the downstairs lounge, growing louder and more annoying.

It was their last standard week there. That meant two long days and nights, followed by their release.

She didn’t want to move, blinking away tears against his chest. She wasn't sure where they were coming from, but they were there.

“It’s time,” he murmured. “They don’t want us here any longer than we have to be.”

She nodded. “I know.”

“We should get up,” he was rubbing her naked back. Last night had ended like every night had since they had come back together. It was cold to wake up to, but comforting at the same time. The stream had been cut earlier and earlier. Eating rations wasn’t like before, but he was warmer and calmer than he had ever been. He wouldn’t ignore her, but would give her space. He’d kiss her until her knees grew weak, lingering in the cooking alcove until he carried her to bed. She imagined what their lives would be like back in real life. Being in his home, being at his side: it felt strange to know what all of that would be in a few hours.

“I’m too comfortable,” she snuggled closer. “You’re too warm.”

His arms shifted to her lower back, pulling up the blankets. She tried to block out the beeping by pressing her ear against his chest. The calm only lasted for a few minutes until the tones grew more urgent. He eventually groaned and grabbed a pillow to thrust over his head. He let out a mock scream and she smiled lightly as she draped herself across his stomach.

“I hate them,” he mumbled into the material. “I can’t wait to get out of here.”

She sighed. He was right. She finally shifted off of him to sit up. She swung her legs off of the bed and gathered up her clothes. He eventually thrust the pillow aside and let out a low groan.

“You talk to them,” he said. “You can do it. Just tell them…whenever.”

She smirked, slipping on her light tunic. “I’m still working on the future tense, sweetheart.”

“It’s simple, really,” he waved his hand through the air. “The vowels shift and depending on the type, remember that there are three of them, the ending is either dropped or extended. They don’t care about gender in formal speech, so don’t worry about that. The sentence structure will never make sense.”

She pulled on her leggings and shrugged, wiggling into them. They must have been one of the smaller pairs because they sat snuggly against her stomach. “We should do it together. Get dressed.”

His eyes were fixed on the ceiling, tracing patterns that weren’t there. She knew how he dreaded this. He had talked, but was mostly silent about their agreement. He would smile and hold her when she would talk about the future, but never really give more than words about how he’d help her. He had reasoned out that he had more power than her; the few tendrils he’d give her were that he figured that he had some resources, probably tucked away if they were working in secret. He was making plenty of assumptions, but she had bound herself to him. She had to trust his instincts.

Slowly, he let the blankets fall away and reached for his clothes. She watched his hands hover over the light tunic that she had pulled off of his body the previous night. She saw his eyes snap to the dark clothing in the corner of the room. She had laundered and folded it not long ago, but it had been unused since their attempted escape. Sighing, he stood to retrieve them and she froze. He fixed the black trousers and undershirt, finally donning the jacket. Aside from the beard, he looked nearly the same as the first time that she had laid eyes on him. He pulled down the hem of the coat and turned towards her.

“Is this presentable?”

His hair was curling at his shoulders. He turned towards her with straightened shoulders, putting on his imposing air.

“You look…like you belong. Wherever we’re going,” she tugged lightly on the threadbare, reused tunic she was wearing. “You know we have a week left, before we leave.”

He nodded, almost sadly. “I thought that…we’d get back to real life as soon as possible.”

Her head dropped. “I…I’m sorry.”

The beeping finally stopped and the room fell silent. Standing on opposites sides of the bed, she felt regret rise in her throat. It was a lump that crawled forward, stopping her from making words. She could take it back; they could stay in these roles and not have to deal with the responsibilities that set his shoulders rigid the second that he slipped on the black clothing. Tears came to her eyes as she watched him glance out the window. The sun hit the snow, washing out his expression. It was when she sobbed that his head snapped in her direction.

He crossed the room in two strides. “What’s wrong?”

“I…I don’t know?” She shook her head as his hands gripped hers. “I…is it right for me to make you do this?”

His hands stilled and he looked down at the floor. “You’re not making me do anything. From the start, I…I wanted to remember who I was.”

She shook her head. “No lies here, Ben.”

His eyes stayed on the floor. He slowly took two long breaths until his shoulders shook lightly, and she saw a tear streak down his cheek. “I’m terrified. I wasn’t afraid when I went for you, attacking them. But I don’t know who I will be when this day is done.”

“You’ll be you,” she reached to tip up his chin. “You’ll still have these memories too. And me.”

He finally quirked a semi-forced smile. “Let’s go appease our hosts.”

They went hand in hand down the stairs, her trailing after him by a half step. At the final step he paused to turn and place his hands on her hips. He kissed her lightly, clearly enjoying having her at eye level. She leaned into his mouth and tried to regain some excitement for what was about to happen. He broke the kiss and brought her down, briefly lifting her into the air. She managed to smile as they faced one another and the landing.

He slowly stepped away, moving towards the datapad. He read the information and sighed. “They’re not happy. They’ll be sending the one that hates me for the procedure. As if I didn’t already detest this enough…”

His hand brushed down his face, stroking his beard before he turned. She read the words over his shoulder and shook her head. This was the right thing to do.

He met her eyes, his hand hovering on the call symbol. “It’s up to you. But I’m happy with you, wherever we are.”

She frowned, reaching for his free hand. “There was something between us before. I need to know, but I…I will still feel the same.”

“We’ll be together,” he squeezed her hand. “You promised.”

He finally started the call and she held her breath, listening to him speak with their captors. He met her eyes halfway through and looked annoyed, but finally nodded. The call ended and he stepped back.

“Will it be soon?” She asked, even though she understood nearly everything that was said. She just needed to hear it from him.

“Within the next half hour or so,” he nodded. He brought her hand to his mouth pressed his lips to her fingertips. “They will be here to remove the devices. They still don’t want us to go outside until the final day. After that, we’ll be permanently immune to whatever’s out there. We'll be given some sort of disinfectant to prevent any further illness. I'm so tired of their rules.”

He guided her to the couch and they sat in an awkward silence. She played with a small fray in the fabric, letting the reality set in. They were breathing fine. Everything was healed and they were stronger together. He was no longer pulling away from her into his own world, but occasionally he would dip into silence and drift off. Now was one of those times.

“Ben, it will be fine,” she said, taking his hand. “Should I change?”

“What?” He asked.

“My clothes. Should I change them?”

He took a second to look confused before he nodded. She slipped away, into the storage room. Her former clothing had been long tucked away and when she found them she traced the blood and blaster marks. This was her life. She would soon be stepping back into it. Undressing, her eyes lingered on the clothing that they had worn in their time there. The silly thing that he had made her wear in the early days had been long tucked away, but the colours caught her eyes. No, even with his memories back, he would still have these thoughts, these emotions. There was nothing to fear. She took a deep breath, returning to the lounge. She swept her hair over her shoulder and took a long look at him. He was sitting with straight shoulders, eyes fixed out the window.

They never got to explore the woods. Meeting the animal had been blissful, but the rush through the forest had been filled with panic. She hoped to walk with him outside once they had the chance to. She crossed the floor to sit next to him. He turned to look at her and smirked at her clothing.

“You need to pull your hair up, like before,” he curled one strand around his finger and slowly let it fall away. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “It feels right.”

They sat together, waiting for what felt like hours until the door in the storage room beeped and the sound of door sliding open sealed their fate. She felt his hand squeeze hers as he stood.

It shuffled in, carrying a heavy bag. The being frowned deeply at them, or at least she thought it was frowning.

“Tchil’ithi cha til cathi’chi,” it said, looking at him. She tried to unscramble the terms, but felt him stiffen at the words. He leaned down and whispered in her ear.

“It’s time to decide,” his voice was low.

She managed to nod.

He swallowed, staring down the being. “We choose to have our memories returned, in compliance with your rules as protectors.”

The being removed its protective mask. “Basic?”

“For her,” he shook his head. “But she’s learning.”

It set its heavy bag down on the sofa and sighed. “Numbness first, then the cutting. Very, very small cut. Then a few hours of sleep. It is not much pain. Wait until door opens, then you leave and _never_ return. You or her first?”

The question came quickly and she snapped her mouth shut, looking at him.

He met her eyes and she felt calmed by his look. Finally, she nodded.

“Me first,” she said. “It was my choice.”

The being turned and looked at her. “You. Minus one. You never hurt us. You are brave. And ready?”

It opened its bag, but he cleared his throat. “T’lisi si ri’chli?”

The being chuckled, or it seemed to chuckle. She was almost glad to be freed from these mystery beings as well. It first brought out a box for the procedure and then another smaller bag. It held up a box from that, waving it in his direction, but set the entire thing on the table. The one word that she recognized was _shave_. Vain until the end.

Then it turned towards her and made a motion with his hand she took a deep breath and swept her hair over her head and leaned forward. He was beside her in a heartbeat, taking her hand.

From the medbag, it pulled out a white cloth. It nudged her forward until her head was between her legs and wiped it across her neck. It numbed her instantly as she took steady, even breaths. The being rolled up her sleeve and gently stroked her skin with the cool cloth again. She focused on his hand rather than the slight poke she felt in her arm.

“Sleep now,” it murmured. “Wake up as yourself. Whole. A circle.”

She managed a nod, feeling a heaviness settle in her chest. The last thing she managed to do was squeeze his hand before she drifted off into nothingness.

 

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey meets the man she that she loves and has been living with without memories: Kylo Ren.

 

A humming in her ears was the first thing that she felt. It spread from her head down her spine and into her ribs. It buzzed like a trapped animal until she gasped and sat up, trying to stop her head from spinning. It was like two minds meeting as the past and the present caught up with her.

Rey looked over and instantly jerked her hand away.

Across the bench from her was Kylo Ren. He was passed out, slumped down in one corner, a bandage covering the back of his neck. As she moved her hand away, feeling the base of her own skull for the similar protection that covered the wound that had been made hours ago. It all came crashing down on her.

The days, weeks, and months without memories had brought them closer than ever before, but now she had brought them back to the start.

He was both the man whom she loved and the man whom she should hate.

He was a monster, unconscious beside her. The Supreme Leader of the First Order. Someone she held a deep connection with, but refused to turn. But he was also one to offer her guidance and thought, but also had the blood of hundreds of thousands on his hands. And he had touched her body with those hands. Her heart instantly shuddered.

She scrambled to her feet and made for the only space that would protect her. She took several deep, long, breaths and gripped at the inside of the closed and locked fresher door. Her head spun as she sunk to the floor, dreading him waking.

Everything happened for a reason. And now she had to face it.

 

-=-

 

Kylo Ren slowly blinked awake, initially picking up on her panic. Sitting up on the sofa, he was instantly angry at his own weakness; for three months he had been lounging in nothingness. He was the Supreme Leader. Why hadn’t they found him? The level of incompetence was astronomical. But he had left for his own personal reasons. They had underestimated him and what he was willing to do in order to right the galaxy.

Rey was gone, locked away. It was later in the day than he had anticipated and that added to his anger at the impossible situation he found himself in. He wanted to confront her—or comfort her—but left her to her feelings. She’d made a promise. They would be together. He’d shown her that. It would take time, but her place was by his side. The balance he’d always sought was locked behind the fresher door and he wasn’t going to give it up.

She had refused him during the negotiations, or had been interrupted by whoever shot him down. The memories of the crash were jumbled. His private craft had been attacked with a purpose, but he still couldn’t feel which side had done it. The panicked look on her face from her ship told him it wasn’t any of _her_ people that she knew about. They’d picked the planet because of its reputation as being hostile to offworlders on the Outer Rim. He’d suggested it with bitterness, remembering Snoke driving the language into him from a kidnapped member of the race of protectors after he discovered the toxic fungus with plans to use it in the future. It had been over a decade ago and now he had freely read her poetry in that language. The past truly was a curse and he grimly resented all of his returned memories.

He instantly moved to the table and opened the bag left for them. It held his lightsaber and their communicators. He gripped the weapon in his hand and sighed, feeling the Force course through him. It was the first time he could truly touch it and know what it was. The light dampened the dark like the warmth of her touch and he could feel every being nearby, thriving with life. The tips of his fingers tingled as he brushed the communicators. The shaving kit could wait until she had accepted where she should be, by his side.

It was finally time to go home.

But did he want that?

Fingering his lightsaber, he ignited it. He remembered striking out at her after they landed, blaming her for the crash. She had protested, screaming that she had nothing to do with it. Her ship was nestled in a darkened cropping of trees, hidden from anyone not looking for it. She really was a good pilot, and it pained him to admit it. It wasn’t until they started coughing and fighting to breathe that he realized something was wrong. She had been afraid then and was afraid now. He took steady, even breaths and eyed his communicator and his link to the First Order. He should call immediately and address the obvious issues in the leadership. Or whatever would be left of it when he returned.

Instead, he powered down his lightsaber and turned to sit on the sofa and wait for her.

 

-=-

 

The bitter tears finally came to her eyes when she heard the snap-hiss of his lightsaber. Rey sat on the cold floor of the fresher and clamped down her shields; it was the first time that she could do that and greedily threw them up to block him from her mind. She took a few more breaths, finally reaching beyond her sanctuary to find that he was like he should be, but also not Kylo Ren. He was a blend, drawing on new and old feelings. He was patiently waiting on the sofa, broadcasting his thoughts to her. They touched her mind like a gentle breeze, clean and soft. He was waiting for her, but not forcing her.

With a shaking hand, she opened the door.

His head snapped to her with a light smile, a Ben smile. It was an unimaginable expression in their previous lives, but here he was, nearly grinning at her. His lightsaber rested on the table, where they had shared so many meals. He stepped back and nodded at her.

Then he noticed the solemn look on her face and frowned. “What’s wrong? We’re leaving together.”

She finally forced air from her lungs and had to shake her head. “Ben, I…It’s different now.”

“What’s different?” His voice was instantly impatient, picking up on the cracks in her shields. “You’re leaving the Resistance. We’re resetting the First Order. I know now how it all fits together. I’ve known for years. Our memories shouldn’t stand in our way.”

"Something's off," she gritted her teeth, fighting against every urge in her body. “I don’t know.”

The silence arced through them, finally settling in her chest. Despite everything, there was a spark within her that was telling her to resist him and his offer. He finally accepted her response and hurt bled through their bond, starting like an ember until it lit into a full fire. His down shields forced her to see the change and the pain that her words had caused.

She didn't want to feel guilty, but it still felt like this was her fault. His face told her that.

His eyes tore away from her, back at the table. “So, this time meant nothing to you?”

“No, Ben, I…”

“No!” He shouted, shaking the table with a generous Force push, setting the devices rattling. “You wanted these memories back. This was your choice. I did it for _you_. Deal with it, Rey! Accept the consequences and keep your word!”

She eyed his lightsaber and felt her guilt settle through her body. Yes, this was her fault. “I…I don’t know what I was thinking.”

He reached for the 'saber and pointed it at her, unlit. “Where is that ship? _Your_ ship? _THAT_ ship.”

She stepped forward. “You must have felt it. It’s about a standard day from here by foot.”

He ran a hand through his hair and turned. She could see him cursing internally at how long it was. “If this is what you want, then that’s what it will be. Keep clinging to the past and who I was and _forget_ all of this. I will help to take you there, once they release us. And then this will be over. My role in the First Order is clouded, but I have no place in your Resistance. Until the final spark is snuffed out, you will see how wrong you are.”

“Ben…” she tried again, but he froze her with his eyes.

He didn’t want to be touched. He turned from her and stalked upstairs, slamming the door behind him. She heard him scream and felt her legs give out. Gripping at her head, she let herself cry. She couldn’t trust her own feelings or mind. She’d given herself to him, falling into his world. And now she had to fight against those sensations that once brought her comfort, with the monster that he had been in the past.

The light was still there; she had brought it out in him.

That made her heart break even more.

He’d shown his light without memories.

She wanted to go back on her word, but another part of her just wanted to leave with him and give up the fight. He’d given her a home here, and there would be a place by his side.

But he was the man that murdered Han Solo and ended Luke Skywalker. The Resistance was crippled because of him and the New Republic was floundering still. His hands were those of a monster, not a lover.

But they had been. And still could be.

But that would mean abandoning her friends and the cause, but for the greater good. She had turned down the offer before and saw the consequences.

He had softly touched her, kissed her, loved her.

She shook lightly, curling into a ball. Her strength would have to come later. This was the aftermath of a bomb that she had set off. The light outside started to fade as she tried to find the ability to fight against what she was beginning to realize was a message from the Force. It was telling her not to go with him, no matter how hard it hurt. She finally sat up, trying to get some reassurance from the direction that she was being guided in. It was the Force rejecting him, not her heart.

And the stream cut out.

She didn’t have the energy to cry again. The warmth swept out of the building like the spirit of what they had shared and what they could be.

She weakly forced herself to her feet, trying to ignore his tangled thoughts drifting into her mind. He was angry, but not at her. They hadn’t eaten and she felt weak and exhausted. She moved to the storage space, but found it empty, aside from a small pile of their belongings. Her ragged rucksack was propped up, appearing from nowhere. Everything else was gone. There were no more linens. Slumping against the door, she hugged her light tunic to her body. This night would be endless.

The upstairs door creaking open broke the silence.

There was dim hope in that sound.

Her foggy breath filled the space, fading into the air of the lounge.

She carefully moved towards the stairs, pushing herself with every step.

In the darkness, she felt his eyes on her as he entered the room. She lingered in the doorway, trying to make up her mind.

Silently, she undid her belt and pulled off her tunic. She slid the leggings down and stepped out of them.

The bed creaked as she put her knee on it and she stopped, fear gripping at her as she locked eyes with him.

“You came,” he finally said.

“I…I was cold,” she stammered.

“Just like before,” his voice was flat, but she could almost feel the small hint of a smile.

The beds were still together. He hadn’t pushed them apart.

When her hands felt steady, she finally slipped under the covers.

He was so close; she had to keep from reaching for him.

“I didn’t want these memories,” his voice was low, but she could still feel the warmth of his breath caress her cheek.

“I know,” she managed to say. “But we have a chance now if you…”

She heard him exhale and stopped talking.

“I can’t go back,” he finally said. “Even…turned. The First Order has the balance of power. And my mother…”

“Misses you,” she cut in, daring to reach out her hand. Her fingers brushed his chest and she quickly withdrew, scooting towards the edge of the bed.

“She’ll never forgive me.”

She dared to shift towards him again. His body warmth drew her in, but the waves of conflict rolling off of him pushed her on. Her knee met his and she felt his hand graze her hip. It was when she put her palm against his chest again that she could breathe.

“She already has,” she said, feeling his hand rest against her midsection. “We talk about you. I don’t always tell her everything, but we talk. She knows that she made mistakes. To her, they aren’t just mistakes, but part of you returning to her. She loves you and wishes that she’d shown it more.”

“Don’t say these things,” his hand fell away. “Rey, you made a promise.”

The words hurt her heart. And the only one she could turn to was him. She reached for him and even though he resisted, she rested her head on his shoulder. He was stiff, but still waiting for an answer.

As always, the Force only gave her conflicted responses when she reached for it. The right and wrong, dark and light, were always mingled, bleeding into one another. She didn’t know how to understand what it was pushing her to do.

His mind brushed hers as his arms wrapped around her, hugging her to him. She sighed at the contact, feeling her emotions overwhelm her.

“I know I made a promise,” her voice was shaky, fighting back tears.

“Don’t cry,” he whispered, his lips brushing her hairline. “Please.”

“But the First Order, Ben, they’ll kill us,” tears came despite herself. “We don’t know. We just don’t know.”

She could feel him trying to edge onto her mind again and let him in. It was a wave of calm, accompanied by him rubbing her back. He knew what to do. He had a plan. She would follow him and he would bring balance, but she didn’t quite know what that meant yet. Still, she drew on his energy. It wasn’t the darkness from before, but instead the light they had created in the absence of knowing.

“Trust me,” he whispered. “Trust me, Rey.”

She dropped her shields and felt the full brunt of his feelings. He hated going back as well, but knew that without leadership, the First Order would be attacking blindly and with fury. She felt her resolve break and brought her lips to his and felt him start at the kiss before gently returning it, slowing down her desperation.

“Sleep now,” he broke away. “We can talk about this tomorrow.”

She felt the forced suggestion to sleep nudge at her mind and didn’t resist it. She welcomed the chance to dream.

 

 


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo and Rey deal with having their memories back.

 

 

He saw everything as he slept: every pain, every insult, and every part that was left hollow over the years. Kylo knew he pulled her too close during the night because at some point he was awake enough to feel her gasping against his arms. He breathed an apology, one that he meant, and she had nodded before she let him touch her again. But the instance faded into the jumble of memories and reality warring inside of him.

Kylo was fully awake before the sun rose. He stared at the nothingness of their room and exhaled out his nose to keep from waking her. It was strange to know who she was now and not just think of her as _her_. She was Rey. She had fought against him, with him, and then against him again. The connection that they shared had spiked, faded, and then became a constant pressure over time. The idea that light always rose to meet the dark rang in his head, along with Snoke’s cruelty and other dark thoughts. But he was long dead. He had snuffed him out for her.

Why couldn’t she just let the past go? He could understand her choice before, but not now. Normally, when he couldn’t understand something, he would be determined to crush it into submission. Now, he just had to meet it with hollow acceptance.

He slowly moved out of her arms and reached for a tunic. It wasn’t until it was halfway on that he realized it was the wrong colour.

Black. He wore black.

He sighed and tossed the offensive clothing away. He scrubbed his face, finally resting on the height of his annoyance. Pulling on his trousers, he left for the shaving kit to get some form of release from this prison.

The shaving kit sat beside his lightsaber, but he pushed the weapon away. He opened the box and breathed a long, slow, sigh of relief. There was a small mirror in the box. For the first time in three months, he could see his face.

His eyes had changed. His mother’s eyes looked back at him when he gazed into the reflection.

Angrily grabbing the case, he moved to the fresher. He ran a steady stream in the hand mount and moistened his face, reaching for the packet of cream. He spread it over his face and found the razor. It felt delicious in his hand and he quickly started to work. As usual, he had to fight against moving too quickly. He restrained himself and lightly started the motions. His father had never taught him this properly. His father had been either arguing or gone, but that past had been clouded by years of agonizing over it. He saw his own face emerging in the mirror and had to fight against cutting closer.

The hair fell away bit by bit and he finally met skin. He spread a new coat of cream until it felt smooth against the blade. He sighed at the feeling of doing something simple like this. Washing his face, he met his reflection in the mirror again. He was almost whole. The scar was a part of him now, like everything inside of him even though it had been transformed. Now, it was just his shoulder-length hair to deal with.

Sweeping one hand back and into his hand, he judged as roughly as he could and took the sharp blade to the curls, cutting them off. They fell on his bare shoulders and he sighed at the sensation. He didn’t care that it was uneven; Rey could fix it when she woke up.

Finished, he shook his head and felt accomplished. It was a simple thing that he had been denied for so long. He missed being in control more than these damned memories.

He heard Rey stir and shut the kit. He brushed off his shoulders and centred himself before going upstairs again.

She was awake, but still in between dreams. He grinned, despite himself, and climbed back into bed, spooning next to her to rub his clean face against her skin. The playfulness of teasing her with his beard returned in that instant and he felt her tense; it was like he was back where they had been before, just two people without responsibilities and uncertain futures.

“What did you do?” She mumbled, turning over with a sleepy smile. Running her hand across his face and into his hair, she tilted her head. “Look at you.”

“It’s awful, isn’t it?” He kissed her neck, gliding his hands up her sides. “We can fix it later.”

She kissed him lightly, tired mouth slowly awakening. She was still lingering in whatever dream she had been having. He followed the curve of her body down to her thigh and sighed.

Rey leaned back with soft eyes. “Kylo…”

The name broke his thoughts and he instantly froze. How dare she.

She felt his panic. “No, Ben, no, I didn’t…”

He was pushing himself from the bed before he could really think. “If that’s who I am to you…”

“Ben, stop.”

He froze at the foot of the bed, feeling the rising regret in her voice and the instant agony bleeding through her shields.

“It was a mistake,” she said, sitting up. “Or it was, if you are… _you_ now.”

He ground his back teeth together, setting his jaw so that it would hurt. Who was he? Suddenly, the dark rushed back to him and he felt anger rise at himself and her. But he promised to never hurt her again and he needed to keep that. He took one long breath and quietly knelt back down on their bed. Her eyes were apologetic, arms coming around her midsection.

“I don’t know if I’m Ben Solo,” he said, slowly gathering his thoughts. “But I’m no longer Kylo Ren, unless I need to be.”

“To the First Order?”

He nodded.

“Why?”

Daring to move forward, he spread out beside her on the bed. “You lived as a scavenger your entire life. You do what you need to do to survive.”

She slowly moved closer to him again and he knew he’d hit the right words without meaning to. She touched his face and hair, trying to get him to forget her slip-up, and he met her eyes. It would be hard to push away, for now.

“You did a really good job here,” she smirked. “I’m sorry I was…I’m sorry I misspoke before.”

“You weren’t wrong,” he shook his head. “It’s what we’re dealing with now.”

She sighed. “But now you’re mad.”

Shaking his head, he sat up again feeling restless, moving the edge of the bed. “How can I not be mad? You asked for this, Rey. I tried to tell you that it wouldn’t lead anywhere to have our memories back. And now we’re dealing with it.”

He heard the harshness in his voice only when he stopped speaking.

“Yes, we’re dealing with it…” she bit her lip. “In the way that we always do.”

“By fighting?” He managed a light tone. He rested his head in his hand. “I almost _like_ being stuck here. No one can come to your rescue, and nothing will blow up because of you.”

He felt her brush a loose hair off of his shoulder. “So, if I go back with you…”

“Yes?” He sounded too eager, but still snapped his eyes to hers.

She licked her bottom lip and took a second to start speaking again. “What are you thinking?”

He nodded. “Things were disorganized before our meeting. It’s mainly working through routine. People are fooled by perceived consistency in their everyday lives. But there are numerous projects that are over budget and our normal connections are suspicious. Hux has been pressing on moving on the last pockets of the New Republic. It was this last suggestion and your…insistence that made me agree to meeting with you. It’s a wasted venture and he knows it; the remaining senators and their factions are cowards and it would only be for propaganda. The core worlds we need to hold are for strategic purposes. I’ve been…finding creative solutions to limit his military resources.”

She nearly gasped. “Is that how we’ve been able to…”

“Take back the scraps you have? In a way,” he shrugged. “But it was more to show him that I’m in control.”

“He’s likely taken over in your absence and turned them against you.”

He shook his head. “Limited resources, without evidence of who is taking it, makes people nervous. There are funds that could have found their way into accounts that can be traced to him. I’ve disappeared. There will be doubts. We’ll capitalize on the weakest links in the chain to break it.”

“And then what?”

“The Force will guide us,” he said, echoing Luke’s words. “It already brought us this far.”

Her hand slowly took brushed his. “What if I were to take this information back to the Resistance? You’ll be on the inside and…”

He wanted to pull away, but instead clenched his hand into a fist. “Would they believe you?”

His words hung in the air and she took a deep breath. “I didn’t tell them we’d be meeting.”

“I know.”

She shifted away from him, moving to sit against the pillows, putting some distance between them. He still sat at the edge of their bed, resisting the growing frustration rising in him. Of course she would doubt him. He slowly shook his head.

“You need to think,” he finally said. “I’m going downstairs. Join me when you need me.”

He picked up the last of his clothes and left without looking at her. He couldn’t be in the same room with her conflicted emotions and his own. It was suffocating. He still didn’t sever his mind from hers, letting her deal with his thoughts as well as her own.

 

 


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo and Rey both have doubts and her decision not to go with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Al my love for the kudos, comments, and everyone for reading! The final chapters will be uploaded in the coming days (or when I just want to post it all). I'm on tumblr (http://raevfitta.tumblr.com/) and twitter (https://twitter.com/shistorian), where I complain a lot :)

 

Rey heard the shower and ventured downstairs, her legs numbly carrying her forward. She saw their communicators and his lightsaber and hugged her arms against her chest. His plan was clear and he was telling her the truth. He was angry that she couldn’t put all of her trust in him and he had every right to be. She wasn’t the type of person to go back on her word, but loyalties were hard to divide when both sides were so polarized. He’d already put himself in obvious danger. Despite all of it, Rey was still torn. The pressure from the Force was growing heavier and she tried to shake it off. She couldn’t cut herself off from Leia, Finn, Poe, Rose and everyone else. His intentions seemed to indicate that’s what she had to do.

Tracing the casing of his lightsaber, her thoughts drifted aimlessly. It shouldn’t be this hard.

Giving up, she went to the alcove only to find two still-steaming cups of chai waiting for them, for her.

Biting her lip, she took one of the mugs and tried to do something normal. Despite how heavy her thoughts were, life with the Resistance seldom offered much down time. Sipping the spicy liquid, she went to the lounge. She knelt in front of the window and set the mug aside. There were too many emotions swirling in her mind and too many directions to take. Setting her eyes shut, she took steady, even breaths. Meditating was still something that eluded her at the best of times, but now she truly needed the Force to guide her. Her heart couldn’t be trusted.

For once, she slipped into the calmness easily. He still lurked in the back of his mind, but instead of a threat, it was a steady near serenity. He was guiding her through it; memories of one of the first breathing exercises came back to her and she frowned, temporarily shaken from her focus. Part of her wanted to be angry and shut him out; she was allowed privacy and could do this herself. He must have sensed it and she felt him withdraw.

She was alone in her own head, breathing in the Force. It settled around her and through her. She slipped deeper into its embrace, drawing on the past, present, and the future. _There is no chaos, there is harmony_.

She floated through the tangled thoughts until a clearer answer appeared. It wasn’t as comforting as she had wished it could have been.

As she slowly swam up from her trance, she felt a warmth pressing against both of her knees. When she opened her eyes, he was kneeling opposite to her, almost close enough to touch. He looked peaceful in his own meditation and she didn’t want to break it.

Instead, she closed her eyes again and just thrived on the light pressure of his body scarcely touching hers.

She wasn’t sure how long they had been kneeling on the floor when she heard his breathing change. She opened her eyes to meet his. He looked untroubled and she smiled lightly at him.

“Did that help?” He asked, slowly reaching for her hand.

She let him take it. “Quite a bit actually.”

“It’s been a long time since I felt…free in meditation,” he still sounded lost in thought. “I’ve needed this for a while.”

Rey was quiet, still letting the answer she found sink in. “I can’t go with you.”

His eyes stayed unfocused, his head down. “I know.”

“But that doesn’t mean that your plans have to change,” she quickly shook her head, a near panic starting to rise in her again. He could go with her. That could work too. “Things are already in motion.”

“Yes, but it will take longer now,” he sighed, starting to rise to his feet but she reached for him, grabbing at his hand. “What?”

“Just…I…” she held on to him, feeling desperation win out over her resolve. She pulled him clumsily towards her, catching his mouth in a harsh kiss. He stumbled to sit next to her, a hand wrapping around her neck to steady himself. She poured herself into the kiss, needing to share herself with him. She opened her mind to his as she climbed onto his lap on the floor. He awkwardly shifted, smirking against the corner of her mouth. His hands steadied her, grabbing her ass to lift her closer. She wrapped her legs around him and nearly mashed their mouths together.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he whispered as she felt emotion bubbling up into her chest. She sobbed as she wrapped her arms around him as he held her. The tears were warm and heavy as she kissed him again, touching his face and his shoulders. She ran her fingers through his hair, grinding her body against his. On his lap, on the floor, she wanted to feel anything but the pressure to leave him scratching at the back of her head.

“I’m sorry,” her cheeks were wet as she pressed kisses down his face. “I’m so sorry.”

She was pulling at her tunic when his hand stilled hers. She rested her forehead against his and took his face in her hands.

She was still crying lightly when he brought his hands up to cover hers.

“We have to leave tomorrow,” his voice was low, and she shut her eyes. “The door will open early and I have to take you to your ship.”

She numbly nodded, hugging him closer.

“You need to eat.”

She nodded again, not moving.

They sat in silence, locked together, until she started to feel numbness start to spread through her legs. He hugged her tightly and then shook his head.

“Come on, Rey.”

She sniffled. “I’m not hungry.”

He gently nudged her off of his lap and she reluctantly stood. He rose up beside her, tucking a hair behind her ear as he dried the last of her tears.

“Go shower. You’ll feel better,” there was still no emotion in his voice, but she managed to nod and he stepped away from her. She took one long look out the window before turning to the fresher.

She hoped that he was right.

 

-=-

 

He briefly had to shut himself off from her when he finally heard the water start to hum and let his legs give out. Kylo still felt her moist tears on his jacket and angrily tried to brush it away with shaky hands. He tightened his shields as he tried to shut off his emotions. Damn the light, _damn her light_. Darkness clawed at the back of his throat until he sobbed, letting it go. He drew on an old lesson of Luke’s and let the emotions go into the Force. Despite how it toyed with him, it would keep him from being angry at her during their final hours together. This emotion wasn’t to be saved for later; it was worth letting go.

He numbly dumped out the cold mugs of chai and heated more water. He mused over easier memories, remembering his feeble attempts to care for her. Kylo’s mind wandered to when he tried to offer her comfort while she was bleeding and shuddered at the personal contact.

He was stirring the chai when he paused.

He slowly gazed across the lounge at the ‘fresher.

Shaking his head, he wrote it off as his own ignorance of not noticing things unless they were obvious and opened up two ration packages. Sitting at the table, he broke off pieces of the bland ‘food’ and turned his lightsaber in slow circles around the table. She must have rebuilt one by now, but where was it? Rising from the table, he found her bag in the closet and briefly rifled through it. There was nothing there. Forcing himself to eat more, he frowned and closed the bag.

“What are you doing?” She was fully dressed, appearing in the doorway and towelling off her hair.

“Where is your lightsaber?” He asked, still chewing. “You have one.”

She pursed her lips. “It’s on the ship. I didn’t have time to take it and was more concerned with you in the crash. I didn’t expect you to attack me.”

“I didn’t attack you,” he replied.

Rolling her eyes, she shrugged. “Then I didn’t need it.”

“What colour?”

She turned away from him and he followed her back to the table. She sipped at her chai and broke off a piece of her ration before answering.

“Purple.”

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s surprising.”

“Really?”

“No.”

She actually smiled at him. The shower had washed away most of her worries, or at least had pushed them to the back of her mind. He joined her at the table, taking measured bites of the ration. She finished hers and went to retrieve two more, before setting the others aside to count them. She was preparing to leave. Part of his heart shuddered at the motions, but accepted them. He didn’t control her.

He stood, reaching for his ‘saber. “Come here.”

“Why?” She quirked her head.

“When we’ve fought before, your grip is too high,” he held the unlit hilt in his hands and settled them into the correct position. “Come here and I’ll show you.”

She sighed. “To be fair, that was a while ago.”

“Then you’ve not broken that habit,” he stepped out of his stance and pointed the weapon at her.

Her hand lightly brushed his as she cautiously took it. Placing her hands on the hilt, she took a fighting stance and he sighed. Stepping around her, he nudged her hands lower and adjusted her hip. He felt her lean back to look at him with her eyes narrowed.

“This doesn’t feel natural,” she fixed her grip and frowned.

“Because no one has properly taught you,” he breathed in the faint hint of soap from her hair, not stepping away.

“I read the texts and watch old Jedi holos that we’ve dug up,” her shoulders stiffened. “I’m doing what I can.”

“Then let me help you.”

“Fine.”

He finally stepped away as she ignited the blade. She took several swings, striking low and high before turning towards him, pointing the hissing plasma in his direction. He smirked and motioned with his hands again.

“You’ll burn yourself if you don’t move them down.”

She pursed her lips at him with a small smirk and she adjusted her grip. “Better?”

“Try again. Let me see.”

She took two long strides back, before aiming two strikes in his direction. He didn’t flinch as the blade came to rest beside his neck. Exhaling slowly, she disengaged the weapon.

“Thank you,” she said, biting her lip and handing him his weapon. “I’ll remember this.”

He was silent as she returned to finish the last of her chai and ration. But he wasn’t done with the exercise.

“Not just yet,” he smirked, igniting the weapon. He spotted one of the books resting in their make-shift library on the windowsill and brought it flying at his head. With an aggressive strike, he burnt through the tome. He looked at her with a satisfied grin.

“Was that the mineral book?”

“Yes,” he kicked at the remnants and stabbing through the cover until it ignited. “His knowledge of mountain ridges couldn’t help him there.”

She laughed. It made him forget that the hours were ticking by and there was nothing he could do to stop them. He disengaged the blade and offered it to her. She accepted the hilt again and he stood on the other side of the room. They spent the rest of the morning tossing books at one another and burning through the covers while exchanging small touches as they traded his lightsaber back and forth until the floor was a mess with singed and still smouldering pages.

They came to the final book and he froze it midair, turning off the lightsaber in his hand.

“What is it?” She asked, watching him guide the book from her will to his free hand.

“I want to keep this one,” he traced the cover.

“Why? You hate this language.”

He shrugged. “This one I don’t hate.”

It was the poetry book. She looked at him with a question on her lips and he watched it die before she could pose it. Nodding, she folded her arms. She stomped out a small fire and brushed a few pages off of the sofa to sit down. Her eyes were suddenly distant, focused out the window.

Clutching the book, he wasn’t sure what to do next. There were many hours of sunlight left, and then the long, final night. He turned to the alcove and set the book on the counter. He dreaded getting used to standard time again. They were nearly used to the strange days just at the end.

He let his thoughts drift until he felt a hint of a presence ghost at the edge of his mind. It wasn’t more than a touch and if he hadn’t been centred and calm, he wouldn’t have noticed it. It faded as quickly as it had appeared, vanishing into the life outside in the forest. He turned a questioning gaze towards her.

“Was that you?”

She shook her head. “I didn’t do anything.”

He frowned and shook off the feeling. He made more chai and sat next to her. To his surprise, she leaned against his shoulder, accepting the mug.

“Should we always listen to the Force?” She asked, circling her finger around the lip of the cup. “The texts are…cryptic about it.”

Taking a long drink of chai, he tried to find the answer.

“Those texts are meant more for interpretation than guidance. The Force is…it doesn’t control us. But we don’t control it either. Some say we’re vessels for the Force, and that it should flow through us. Sno…,” he paused to correct himself. “…my former master had other ideas. The Force was an obstacle for him, eluding his every will. It was a tool, to be bent and forged into a desired shape.”

“What do you say?”

“I still don’t have an answer,” he focused on the pages littering the floor. “The Force hasn’t always been kind to me.”

He was thankful that she didn’t have any more questions. The sun slowly signalled it was midday and he stood to stretch. She looked tired and he brushed her mind, suggesting sleep. She gave him a small nod, caressing his thoughts in return.

All he could focus on was how cruel the Force was as he followed her upstairs.

 

 


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Force can be both cruel and kind.

 

Rey couldn’t stay asleep when she felt him leave the bed after a few hours. She had drifted in and out of dreams, mostly about Jakku. The snow and cold outside clashed with the sand and the heat of her planet. But losing his warmth shook her out of the haze of memories.

Kylo— _Ben_ , she insisted to her lingering doubts and the Force whispers—was kneeling by the window, meditating again. He had hated staying still during their time there. And now he was willingly accepting it. Her questions about the Force had sent him quiet, so this was his solution. There weren’t any more books left to slice up.

She slipped out of bed, intent on packing the supplies that she had set out earlier. She could carry it for the journey back to the Falcon. If she didn’t keep moving, the sadness would catch up with her. Grabbing her bag, she set the rations inside and was refilling her water pouch when she spotted the book that he had spared, resting open on the table. She couldn’t tell if it was one of the poems that he had read to her before, but studied the words, searching for their meaning.

It was something about an incomplete circle. It reminded her of the language itself, made up of circles and slashes, interrupting the completed loop to make the next word and phrase. They were connected, but still interrupted.

Until these months, she never thought he could truly be sentimental. But he was. He was also funny, playful, and thoughtful. He was also impulsive, angry, and filled with self-doubt. She wouldn’t be able to drink chai ever again without thinking about him. It would have to be kaff from now on.

Finished packing, she set to cleaning up the mess that they had made. She gathered up the pages and smiled at the destroyed cover of the boring mineral book. What sort of beings would leave something like _that_ for reading material? Did they know beforehand that he could read the language? These were answers that she would never get. Stacking the pages onto a pile in the corner, she sat down beside it and folded her knees under her chin.

The pressure from the Force was getting stronger as the hours slipped by and she had lost many of them to sleep. There was something comforting with just being around him and being silent. He must be feeling it too and had withdrawn into thinking about it. She really wanted someone to help guide her through this, but had to rely on herself like she always had. However, it was comforting to know that they would always be connected, somehow. Distance would be less reassuring.

His mind brushed hers and she pushed herself to her feet to move upstairs. She briefly groaned as she moved, feeling slightly lightheaded. When had she ever turned down eating? The idea of consuming more rations made her almost gag. But that was all that they had. Ben had fought them for her and cost them the final comforts that made this place a home. She was still amazed at how his instincts drove him both to act rashly, but also with kindness, when he wasn’t himself.

Maybe they were truly themselves when the past wasn’t standing in the way.

She climbed the stairs with that thought lingering in her mind. Ben was sitting on the bed, looking slightly more relaxed again. He gave her a small nod as she sat next to him.

“You didn’t have to clean that up. Leave that for them.”

She shook her head. “But I think that they’ll get the message about their literary choices.”

“You’re right,” he nodded. “We should burn it all too.”

She smiled at him, but he was distracted by the window. It was like he didn’t want to look at her until her fingers brushed his.

“I don’t want to go back on my word,” she said, softly.

“But you are,” he turned away again. “Because of the Force.”

“It’s demanding that I listen,” she frowned. “You’ve felt it too.”

“Like I said, the Force is not kind.”

He was giving into his anger again. Whatever he had sensed in meditation, it had still left him searching. She wanted to assure him that everything would work out, but also knew that there were too many uncertainties. There were too many things that they couldn’t control, despite what he was setting in motion. They had a connection that bound them together; it didn’t mean a happy ending. It promised an ending, but it might be at their own hands.

He took her hand, surprising her. “I’m not being silent to punish you.”

“No, I understand,” Rey stroked the back of his hand, not wanting to let it go. “The Force has rarely been clear or kind to me either. It was always lurking when I was younger, like it was playing with me. And the only things it's truly have shown me…have been about you.”

She felt her voice wavering as she spoke, but still forced the words out.

Ben faced her again. With a neutral expression, he cupped her face. “You’re part of my story. You are not a nobody. Even without memories, you were determined to deal with the problem and the problems that I created for you. I’m sorry I’ve tied you to someone like me. I’ve stepped back from the darkness, but it will always be there. It’s a tempting poison, willing me to take and want more. The amount of times that I’ve failed here only shows how I will only fail again. This will only end in tragedy. That’s what the Force is telling you.”

“I don’t believe that,” she instantly shook her head. “Ben, no. The Force is telling me that going with you _at this time_ is not the right choice. This is just one path. When we leave here, the Force will open new paths to us. Don’t shut yourself off to it.”

His eyes snapped away from hers for a moment and he glanced at his shoulder, like something had touched it. He sighed at it and turned back to her.

“What is it?”

“A presence. I don’t know,” he shook his head. “Did you feel it?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Then it’s nothing,” he shut his eyes. “I didn’t mean to change the subject. It’s been annoying me all morning.”

She shut her eyes, searching for anything strange in their space. It was nothing except his beating heart and lingering sorrow and fear, the trees and the animals, their distant captors…there was nothing.

“I don’t feel anything.” She frowned. “What are you afraid of?”

“Luke,” he mumbled. “No one’s ever really gone.”

Her eyes fell. “He hasn’t come to me.”

“Despite his belief in you, he let us both down,” he slowly pulled away to stand, his feet shifting restlessly. “It will be strange not to speak like this regularly.”

“You don’t really like talking anyway,” she tried to smile and he looked cold for a second before offering her a small smirk. “But I’m…I can’t tell you how much I’m going to miss you.”

He shifted his weight. “Then come with me.”

“Ben…”

“It’s the last time I’ll try,” he gave her a small nod and a clearly sad smile. “Let’s go downstairs. I want to do…anything but just sit here.”

She reached for his mind, sending her agreement. The last thing she added was a warmth that told him that she still loved him. He held her gaze, standing up straighter to exhale slowly; his eyes were a softer brown and she thought it was just the reflection from the window, but there was something more to it. It wasn’t just losing memories that brought him to this point. He had been this close for much longer. The second he saw her in the forest, they were locked into this. The Force had eluded her, but he had found her. He no longer lived in Vader’s shadow, but had forged his own way. What he needed now was her by her side; yet she couldn’t be there. The Force wouldn’t let her.

“I love you too,” he finally said, before turning to descend the stairs.

She took a few deep breaths to collect herself before following him.

 

-=-

 

He wanted to not be himself for the last hours that they were there. The late afternoon would stretch into evening and then night, but he yearned for a time just to be without memories again. Ben, because he was Ben now in this house until tomorrow morning because the damned Force was whispering to her, stopped at the end of the stairs and shook his head. He turned and met her face as she emerged from the bedroom.

No, he wanted to be himself, but just without the terrors of the past. He was still settling into his skin and wanted to find a way to navigate the pain that the dawn would bring.

“It’s too early to eat. I want to show you more with the lightsaber,” he said as she gazed down at him. “Together.”

She took one slow step towards him. “All right.”

He shed his jacket and tossed it on the sofa. The tone from their first days was returning and she looked at him slyly as she pulled down her hair, quickly fumbling to braid it.

He waved her hand away, gently gripping her shoulders. He quickly pleated hair into a long braid, pulling hair together tightly. He tied it off and she stepped away after lightly running his fingers across the bandage of the back of her neck.

She quirked an eyebrow.

He smirked. “My mother. Now come here.”

He drew his lightsaber to his hand and placed it into hers and stepped behind her. He had enjoyed the feel of her body earlier and now he wanted to push her further. She inhaled but he nudged her on, wanting to feel her warmth. He put his hands on her hips again as she took her stance. He corrected it slightly, prodding her until she leaned back into him. He let a tendril of want bleed through their bond, holding back the rest. There was no instant reaction from her, other than a brief intake of breath.

“Don’t ignite it,” he whispered. “Imagine it as your own.”

She adjusted her grip, but pressed against his back. “Mine’s a little smaller.”

He dared to kiss the back of her neck, just beside the bandage. “What was it like to build it?”

One hand drifted down from the hilt to stroke his thigh. Their battle in the throne room shone through their bond. Her voice was low when she spoke. “Hard. But worth it. It’s mine now. I may not be a Jedi, but it’s mine.”

He guided her other hand into a slow striking motion. She followed through with an odd slash at the end and he nearly smiled at how her own style was developing further. He tried to step away, but her back met his chest again and his hands rested on her waist, slipping down to trace the roundness of her backside.

“What’s it like to hold it?” He asked, huskily.

“Not like yours. It doesn’t…burn as hard. It’s lighter, softer,” he heard her voice hitch as his hands drifted around her again, reaching one lower towards her groin. It was teasing, only lightly brushing the fabric between her leggings before withdrawing.

“It’s like you then,” he leaned into her ear. “As it should be.”

He stepped back again and suggested that she take another swing with his mind. She thrust the hilt forward, moving away from him. He could feel her imagining the blade as she took three and four strikes through the air before spinning towards him. Her eyes were excited when she met his and he grinned.

“There’s so much I can teach you,” he noticed how she was holding the hilt and felt satisfaction rise in his chest. “The next time me meet.”

Her lips were parted before she dipped her head. “Will you still love me then?”

“Yes.”

She lifted her eyes again and she was in his arms in two strides, his lightsaber, falling with a thunk to the floor. Her emotions from earlier came bleeding back, hitting them both. He knew what she felt from the Force; he had sensed it too, but he knew that the Force was not a permanence. It was always in motion. She could choose. She could still come to him. He needed to show her that she needed to come with him. He gripped the back of her neck, feeling the healing wound of the implant and lamented its loss.

As delicately as he could, he lifted them both off the ground, focused on her lips and the exercise of taking two bodies off of the ground. He felt her growing passion join his and a surge sent them into a slow turn. He took her tongue into his mouth and she gasped, realizing what was happening through her haze of needing him to care about her. She broke away and he gently tried to bring them to the ground, but they landed with a light thud.

She gripped at his shirt and almost laughed. “Kriff, Ben.”

“What?” He ran his hand down the braid he had made not that long ago.

The sun was starting to crest into late afternoon. The time had passed slowly, but also quickly. He always got lost in time when he was with her. They didn’t need to prepare food, but the time until the stream was cut was looming.

She seemed to be unwilling when she stepped away. “I want to shower before the evening meal. Before the heat goes out.”

He was puzzled but nodded. She took two steps back, holding his eyes before she turned. Unlike before, she didn’t break or shield their link when she entered the fresher. He refilled a glass of water, and felt her undressing. He took a long drink as she set the water stream to warm. He knew how she felt underneath that stream and bled those sensations over to her. Her hair didn’t need to be washed and he sent a teasing wave over to her as she tried to dodge the water. _Put it in a bun._

_Come here._

The response made his hand grip his glass tighter. No. Not now. He took a long, cool drink and leaned against the counter. _Tell me what you’re feeling_.

_Annoyed that you’re not here._

He sent an image of how to do her hair and there was a light, terse response as she fixed it.

She let him into her mind and he gripped the counter at the sensation. She stroked her hands down her breasts, replaying how they stood with the ‘saber. She was imagining them doing it nude, and it excited her. He guided her hands under the warmth of the stream down to her vagina, and she let him. He felt his excitement rising at the control she was giving him as she began she run her hand down her slit and they both shuddered across the shared bond. She wanted him, but tonight would be the last time; they had to wait. He could be teasing, but the Force wasn’t cruel in moments like this.

Her fingers were stroking her clit and he pressed on the feeling.

_Imagine it is my mouth._

She shot back, _I want the real thing._

His pants were feeling uncomfortable and he stood up straighter. This needed to go on for longer. _Tonight._

He pressed how he was feeling into her mind and heard a low shout from the fresher, meant for his ears. Ben had to hold himself back from running to her. He still didn’t touch himself and he sent that along the bond too, greedily using their proximity to his advantage.

_Bastard._

He grinned, sending a touch of his hand through the link across her breasts. She sighed, from the fresher and across the bond.

Then he let his touches grow lighter, telling her to be clean instead. He felt her resist, her enjoyment nearly at its peak, but instead sent how much he loved her across the bond. Touches, whether through the Force or physical, would never mean as much as how he felt for her. She wanted him, he was hard to the point of breaking, but the only thing he could send her was how he felt. It came from a part inside of him that he thought had died long ago, but she heard her low moan from the fresher and let himself go from the link.

His head slightly shaking, he stroked down the front of his pants and quickly withdrew. No, not now.

If the Force could give him anything, it would be a release at this moment.

Again, the ghost presence swooped in and despite his hardness, he tried to harness it. It slipped through his numbed fingers and he lost focus as he felt her motions growing more decided under the water. If it was Luke, he knew how to bring him down.

He was half hard when he felt the sun of her orgasm coursing through the bond and needed to steady himself again. Like anything he truly wanted, he took the emotions from his mind and put them in a pocket for later. Every urge, ever motion, every need was tucked away. The only kindness the Force had shown him was to save feelings for later, if necessary; the thrill of the release was euphoric, but keeping it contained was a sure sign of control.

Instead, he made chai and unwrapped rations.

The stream would cut eventually, but he set the food out and was waiting for her when she emerged from the fresher. She was wearing one of the few pieces of clothing that they had forgotten. It was a long tunic that ended at her thighs. She wasn’t wearing any underclothes.

“Where did you find that?” He asked, leaning back in his chair.

“In the wash. They forgot it,” she shrugged. She bit off a bit of the ration and chewed on it. “Is it funny if I say that this tastes like the food you usually make?”

He liked her like this. She was open and warm, not filled with the future. That was the part of the Force that she didn’t understand. The living Force was something that she has also neglected, despite her inherent connection to it. He knew that he pushed it aside at every chance that he got, but he still left a place open for the right voice. “I’m not offended.”

She put her elbows on the table. “Has this kindness always been inside of you? I thought that I felt it long ago.”

“It wasn’t _that_ long ago,” he made sure she noticed that he was glancing down her tunic and was rewarded with a low blush cross her already warmed cheeks.

She sipped at her chai, reaching her foot up to brush his leg. He nudged her mind, reminding her of her hand on herself in the shower to counter her flirting and she sputtered into her cup.

“Not fair.” She tilted her head.

This felt normal, like the lighter moments that they had shared over these months together. He pressed back, sending her an image of himself with his mouth on one of her nipples and she nearly glared at him.

Her foot settled between his legs and he rubbed it with one hand, still daring her with his eyes as he continued to eat. He pushed her ration in her direction and she took a slow bite, almost burning a hole at him with her eyes.

They were both daring one another to make a move, waiting for the stream to go out. Her foot stroked down his inner thigh and he leaned into it, still sipping chai like it was an average day. She would get frustrated and send him a touch of an image of what it felt like when he was inside of her and he didn’t react, just to counter her.

The chai was cold and they were at a frustrating point when the stream cut out and the table was instantly pushed aside.

His hand glided up her leg the second her mouth met his. The teasing and the images were overwhelming. Whatever the presence was that was whispering to him was still at the edge of his mind, wanting him to convince her to come with him. If this was Luke, it was going against the Force. Knowing him, he was trying to be contradictory and trick him or teach him something. He pushed forward, shifting her up onto the table and sliding his palm up her leg.

She broke the kiss and sighed as he teased her entrance, circling the tip of his finger on her inner thigh. “This isn’t the last time, Ben.”

He wanted to have a smart remark, but it disappeared when he looked at her. She was focused on him, her lips slightly parted. He could believe her for the next few hours. Her thighs were open, waiting for him. When he felt her wetness and slipped his finger into her, the urge to make promises returned. She kissed him again and he sighed as he felt her spread her legs, grabbing for his waist.

“What if it is?” He whispered against her skin, kneading his finger slowly in and out of her. “What if this is the will of the Force?”

He pressed a second finger into her and she keened back, feeling his thumb press against her clit as his motions quickened. She thrust against his hand and he kissed the side of her face, pressing his lips down her jaw.

She shook as she spoke, his mouth nipping at her elegant neck. “The Force has been cruel to us both. We can cheat it tonight.”

He intended to. Damn the Force and damn the fact that it was coming between them. He felt her discomfort as he removed his hands to pull off her long tunic. Despite being fully clothed, she grabbed at his hips to the edge of the table.

“I love you,” she gasped, wrapping her legs around him. Clad only in moonlight, he could sense her fighting against the Force and its will. “I don’t want to leave you.”

“Don’t talk about tomorrow,” he kissed her lightly on the lips, trailing his hands down her ribcage to her waist. “Be here tonight.”

Like before, he lifted her from the table and to him. With a generous use of the Force, he carried her upstairs without dropping her. When he put her on the bed, he could finally remove his clothes. It took longer than he had planned and heard her giggle as he struggled with his belt.

“Again, too many clothes.”

“Quiet,” he finally got his trousers off and he tossed them aside before pulling his shirt over his head. “They keep me warm.”

His arms came around her and she leaned into him. “You keep me warm.”

She rolled him over, grinding against him. Her lips were soft, meeting his mouth with long, deep kisses. She knew his body and knew how to move and touch him. It was getting difficult to contain himself as she ground against his erection, getting herself off on his hardness. She leaned back, resting her hands on his stomach as she gasped. She was close, shifting her hips faster and faster. With a light brush of the Force to where their bodies met, he sent her over the edge.

She looked down at him, breathing heavily. He smiled up at her, drinking in how her eyes were slightly unfocused. Shaking her head, she laid down next to him with a sated grin. He traced his hand down her body, scarcely touching her skin. She followed his hand with her eyes. His fingertips brushed between her breasts and she sighed, arching against him. He traced a lazy pattern across her skin, watching her grin grow. Slowly. He needed this to be slow and perfect.

 _Leave with her_ , the presence from earlier whispered to him. _Leave with her, Ben._

His hand stilled. She saw the look of confusion cross his face and sat up.

“What’s wrong?” Her hand rested on his shoulder.

“Nothing,” he shook his head, placing his hand on hers. “I don’t want this night to end.”

She squeezed lightly. “Come with me. Please.”

Her words settled heavily in his chest. What was he supposed to do? The Force was telling them two different things and neither of them fit with his plan. He studied the concern on her face and the waves of love she was sending him. He wanted to push against her, against the Force whispering to him. She felt his clashing thoughts and kissed him lightly. This wasn’t how he wanted to leave things; there was too much disorder to abandon the First Order. She either went with him, or he went alone. There was no other path.

He felt her inhale shakily and nodded when he looked at her finally. She sadly shook her head and kissed him again. He slowly returned the kiss and gripped her back towards his body.

She chose the Force and he just wanted her.

 

 


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final day dawns and they face parting in sadness.

 

 

He spent the final night away from her. He dressed quietly, but still woke her. She hadn’t realized she’d fallen asleep until she felt him sit on the edge of the bed to pull on his boots. His heel landed with a dull thump and she sat up, worried that it was already morning.

It was still dark.

He wasn’t staying.

Their lovemaking had been slow and his hands were generous. Her body felt complete when he was inside her and she didn’t want to let it end. But it did. His head had rested against her neck, nuzzling the bandage that reminded her again that she had put them in this position. She had felt the warmth of his tears and turned in his arms, joining him in whispered exchanges of endearments and promises to meet again. Part of his mind had closed off to her as she drifted to sleep in his arms, expecting him to be there when they saw the sunrise.

But he wasn’t staying.

He sat on the edge of the bed, staring at his hands before pulling on his gloves. Couldn’t he feel what the Force wanted? She touched his shoulder, and he gave her a soft look before standing. She followed him to the threshold he hugged her, his cloak briefly draping around them both. He’d kissed her goodnight and then took one of the heavier quilts to sleep downstairs. His eyes looked hollow as he shut the door, putting space between them. She could still feel his mind, but it was only an empty solace; he was shielding against her and she could only feel him, not touch his thoughts.

She didn’t cry. This was what the Force willed. She had to return to her place in the galaxy. Her stomach ached against her from stress and she tossed and turned for hours.

Their last night together was spent apart; that was the future that she’d chosen for them.

The morning came too quickly. She felt the door lock disengage and heard him stir, waking her from a dreamless, exhausted sleep. She blankly looked at the ceiling, drawing on the last of her strength to get out of bed. She couldn’t move for at least an hour, going over her thoughts again. The right thing had to hurt; life had taught her that. It was just the way it had to be. He had a home with her; he just refused to see it.

Ben was showered and dressed, waiting for her with chai on the table. Ben had made the chai, but it was Kylo Ren who sat there.

“I’ve contacted the First Order,” he said, flatly. “They will arrive sometime this evening. You may contact your people once we’ve gone, and tell them you’ll be returning _alone_.”

“I…” she wanted to reach out to him. His shoulders were firmly set and he wasn’t looking at her. She didn’t remember hearing him made the transmission, but there was snow on his boots. He had tried not to wake her; Ben was still there, hiding behind a mask that he no longer had. He was forcing his tone and mostly shielding from her. He had not had a good night; his thoughts were clouded and his body language told her not to press the matter. “Thank you.”

“Your ship is far from here,” he didn’t sound like himself. “Get ready and we’ll go.”

He drank down the last of his chai and stood from the table. Lifting his cloak over his shoulders, he gave her a side glance without emotions. He went to the door and opened it, taking firm steps outside into the snowy morning. She spotted him a minute later, out the front window. He stood out against the field of white, surveying the trees and forest around them. He was alone; she had made him that way again.

She watched him as she slowly drank her chai, picking lightly a ration package. When he ignited his lightsaber, she finally turned away. She left her mug on the table and moved to the fresher. It would be a long day, filled with silences like these.

And then it would be over until they met again, at another time, at another place and on opposing sides.

 

-=-

 

They stood at the clearing and she took a deep breath, pulling down the protective cloth from her mouth. Their breath rose above them in a cloud, hanging in the air like dying crystals. Everything was freezing. Despite her gloves and cloak, her body felt like ice.

The hike had been long and cold, tracing through snow that was waist deep at points. He trudged ahead of her most of the way until she forced him to rest for a few hours. He sat close but didn’t embrace her as they found a spot to light a fire and eat. She wanted to avoid his thoughts, but felt them constantly in the back of her mind. Despite his shielding, he was a steady presence in her mind. She didn’t know how to convince him to come with her and it was too late to try. He had his mind made up and a plan in motion. He'd lied to her; she had no place in his story.

She finally took the lead as they neared where his ship had crashed and she had landed hers. The ancient columns of a ceremonial site had been cleaned of debris. She stepped onto a clean tile; it was warm against her boot and she frowned. She tried to remember the landing. It had been a frantic couple of minutes; the blast had come from nowhere and she instantly felt betrayed by an unknown foe. She had been panicked for him, suddenly pushing the mission aside until she found him alive and furious.

“You should turn back,” her voice felt dull, breaking the late afternoon silence. She was exhausted and couldn’t look at him. She had felt pressed on by his urge to leave her during the last part of the journey. “They’ll be looking for you.”

His boots stilled, crunching against the snow at the edge of the site. Sweeping across the expanse, he kept his distance from her. She heard him shift his weight from side to side as his face stilled.

“I won’t send them to look for you. Wait here for a few hours until you feel me leave.”

“Why would you do that?” She turned and wanted to will the distance between them away.

He finally met her eyes again and she saw the heavy resolve before his head snapped towards the treeline and the damage done by the Falcon, a short distance from the columns.

Their breath rose above them, steaming into the afternoon air. She wanted to reach out for him, to hold him one last time. He sensed it and momentarily his hand shook before he took a long step back.

“Unlike you, I keep my word.”

Then he turned and stalked back in the direction that they came, leaving her cold inside and out.

There were no final kisses. There was no prolonged goodbye.

There was no last _I love you._

Half of her wanted to follow him. But the rest of her knew better, or was at least imposing its will on her. The Force pressed her towards her ship, but her heart was refusing to listen.

In between memories, what they had shared had been real. He’d kissed her and she felt loved. She’d given herself to him, trusting that there was something greater and that their bond would be permanent. But now, reality had emerged.

And she was alone.

The final walk reminded her of the days that he had been gone and how empty and frightened she had felt. Those would be hard feelings to hide when she returned to the base.

The Falcon was covered in heavy sheets of snow, obscuring it. But the trees above it had clearly been broken. It bothered her that no one had found it, especially their paranoid captors.

Rey touched the ship and it felt real, cementing her choice. Knowing that it could take her away from all of this made her pause. Finn and Poe would be waiting for her. There were plans to be made and ships to be fixed. She’d contact them the second the First Order was away from the planet. She numbly tapped at the panel and the ramp extended. She walked through the dusty, cold interior and pulled her cloak tighter, waiting for the warmth to spread throughout the ship as she activated the pre-flight checks as she moved towards the cockpit.

She felt him lingering in the back of her mind, trudging back to the rendezvous point.

The determination to keep his word burnt her mind as she frowned in the quiet hours of waiting. She had done the same; they were the same.

She avoided thinking as she waited, staring out at the snow of the forest.

So this was how it ended.

A single tear slipped down her face and she angrily brushed it away with slowly warming hands.

The sun had set and she felt him grow distant and then suddenly annoyed. Rage spiked across their bond and then it clamped shut from her. The shock made her gasp, her hand steadying herself on the console. They must be there. He had his place, and she had hers.

There was no them.

Gritting her teeth, she started to power up the ship. It shuttered lightly, resisting her due to the months in the cold and snow. Hissing in frustration, she fought against it until it finally began to listen to her. Lights filled the cockpit, adding to the warmth of the heating. Letting the motions carry her, she turned from the panel to check the hyperdrive. It had been acting up lately and needed more repairs. When she got back…

An insistent beeping from the radar broke her empty motions.

He’d lied to her.

They were coming.

She trusted him, and he had lied.

She tried to reach out to him through the bond again and it was silent. There was just the cold, hard darkness that was Kylo Ren.

It was all meaningless; Ben Solo was gone again. The damned Force had jerked her around. This was what it was trying to tell her all along.

She finally forced herself to look at the readout as she furiously tried to get the engines into working order.

Checking the radar, she bit her lip.

Why would they only send one ship?

Running for the exit, she grabbed her lightsaber, prepared to let whatever was about to happen occur. There wasn’t more out there for her.

The ramp extended and she took two steps into the snowy darkness before she heard the hiss of another craft landing nearby. She leaned against the railing, watching him exit his ship. Her heart thundered in her ears as he wordlessly met her eyes.

Gritting her teeth, she wanted to confront him, but was too tired. He looked tall, dark and imposing, but he was back. Why?

He took two steps toward her and she extended her hand. He was there. He was real.

And alone.

He silently reached for her, striding to the edge of the ramp.

And she held her breath until he was in her arms.

The dam he had put between them was open and she was flooded with his emotions. Love shone through over all of them.

“We need to go,” he quickly said, pulling from her arms to rush for the cockpit.

“You came back,” she faltered a step, before running after him, closing the ramp behind them.

He was already sitting down, preparing to take off. She slid in beside him and followed his lead.

“For you,” he quickly glanced over, offering a small grin. “Both of you.”

As the Falcon lurched to life, taking them off the surface and into clear danger, she gradually realized he didn’t mean the ship.

 

 

SLUT

~~(that's Swedish for End)~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lovely readers, thank you for being with me on this journey. You're beautiful and your comments and kudos keep me warm on cold, Swedish November days. I want to venture into in-universe again because of ALL of the great comments about my characterization; it was so wonderful to hear that I did something right for a change. Much love to Alle__Panda and sunbug1138 for their comments and kudos along the way. If you're looking for a collab or would like to beta/need a beta, or just to chat, I'm on tumblr at raevfitta and twitter @shistorian. It's mostly pictures of cats and my daily life complaints.
> 
> ...and if someone can talk me out of or into the vampire AU I have in the works, it would be appreciated. Because at some point, I need to write something other than SW fanfiction. Spotify gift card to whomever can track down my dissertation ;)


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